


Sioux Falls: Year One

by Dash



Series: Sioux Falls [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Dean Winchester, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 131,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dash/pseuds/Dash
Summary: After John dies following a brief illness when Dean is 17 and Sam is 13, they are left to carry on without him and forge a new life and path.  An alternative look at the first year and how their lives and paths might have been altered and relationship with Bobby deepened.
Series: Sioux Falls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031304
Comments: 24
Kudos: 72





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: While this isn’t a “Pro-John” story, it’s not an “Anti-John” story, either. I think he clearly had issues, didn’t always do what was right by his sons, and made mistakes. In my opinion, he was an authoritarian but not an abuser and uninvolved from a parental pov but not neglectful. I also think he loved them both deeply and was a responsible father, in his own way and on his own terms. 
> 
> While this is an AU, clearly, I’ve done my best to work with the established canon of the show, with two large exceptions: 
> 
> 1) I have totally disregarded the timeline shown in “4.13 After School Special”. With 4 years separating them and both having later in the year birthdays, Sam and Dean would always be 4 years apart in most US school systems, assuming no skipped grades or hold backs. In the late fall of 1997 (4.13), Dean would be almost 19 and would have probably dropped out by that point. You can sit for your GED in most US states when you turn 18. 
> 
> 2) I’ve also ignored the storyline of “9.07 Bad Boys”. No matter how mad John might have been, I don’t see him allowing Dean to get into the system and with a record, even a quasi-juvenile one. That would invite too many questions, follow ups, and prying eyes. 
> 
> Also, please note that Dean does spank Sam a couple of times in this story. It’s not long, over the top, or abusive, imo. I decided NOT to add a spanking tag because … if you are looking for ‘spanking stories’, you will be disappointed. If you are anti-spanking, it will be easy to skip those few paragraphs. With over 130,000 words, I figured the less than 1,000 that involve spanking doesn’t make this a spanking story. Not that there’s anything wrong with that … since that’s clearly what I’ve written before! It’s just not this story.

OOooOOooOOoo

September 1996

“I wish we were looking at better results, John,” the doctor said, leaning in toward the man sitting in the chair next to him in the quiet office. “But we’re not.”

John Winchester nodded, not surprised, having sensed the inevitable outcome after each test. The weight loss, the pain, the tiredness … he knew his body and he knew when his time was coming to a quick close. “What are we looking? I’ve got two sons….” His voice cracked slightly and he felt his mouth twist before swallowing hard and closing his eyes briefly. Getting his emotions back under control, he said, “I have two sons that I need to make plans for.”

The doctor nodded, aware the man before him was a widower and how this news was going to impact the already small family. “With Stage IV and the fact that the cancer has already moved into your liver and bones, we typically say two to six months, barring an aggressive treatment plan. With these results,” he motioned toward the folder, “we could certainly look at something but … the chances of a positive outcome are slim.” He paused, letting his words sink in. His patient had been very matter of fact over the last six weeks and, except for the brief bits of emotion when talking about his sons, had remained very stoic and unmoved by the death sentence now being given to him.

The other man nodded, “I want this to be quick and easy, both for myself and my sons. How do we make that happen?”

Sitting in a hotel room near the hospital three hours later, John pulled a notebook out of his case and began to make notes. As a hunter, his life had been built around lists and signs and planning four, five steps ahead and being organized. Making sure there was enough salt rounds made, making sure lighters and matches were handy, and there was plenty of gas in the car was just as important as knowing what was going to be killed and how to do the job. Hunts – and lives – could be lost by missing those small details. Now, his list and plans weren’t to protect his own life but the lives of his sons. 

“Hey,” Bobby Singer said quietly into the phone two hours later. Glancing through the kitchen window, he saw Sam sitting on the fence across the back property and assumed that Dean was out there, as well. The boys had gone out to practice target shooting after school but the lack of gun fire in the last 10 minutes and growing shadows seemed to indicate they were simply talking now, probably about the girl Sam had gotten sweet on and hoping to take to some Middle School dance the next month. “The boys are out back. What’s going on?”

“Two to six months,” John said evenly. “If we’re lucky.”

Bobby breathed out, feeling his stomach drop. After a moment, he simply said, “Damn, John. I’m sorry … just … damn.”

The other man gave a dry chuckle, “Yeah.” The line went silent for a long moment, both lost with what to say to the news, before he coughed lightly and continued, “But, I’ve been sitting here making plans and I need a bit of help from you, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, anything,” he said quickly. He had known about the tests, the fears, for the last six weeks and had, in the quiet darkness of the night, been making his own plans too. “You and the boys are welcome to stay here, for as long as you – they - need.”

“I know and I appreciate it and am counting on it,” John said with a smile in his voice. “I know they will always be safe with you.”

“Always,” Bobby said firmly. He hadn’t been surprised to see the Winchesters pull up at his house mid-July after a warning call a few days before that they were in the area. They often came in the summer when schools were out and schedules were more flexible. He had been surprised though to see how tired John had looked, worn down, and a bit ragged around the edges. The other hunter had brushed it off as two months of late nights and difficult hunts and Dean, with all the brashness and confidence of a 17 year old, had filled his honorary uncle in on all the excitement. A week later, the real shock had come.

“Come out to the porch with me for a minute,” John had said late one night, holding out a beer. He glanced up the darkened stairs, his point and desire for privacy clear.

“What can I do to help,” he asked after John outlined his concerns, the fears of the doctor he had seen during the previous week, and the upcoming appointments in Rochester, a bit over three hours away. He kept his voice steady, knowing that would mean more to the other man then weeping or even sympathy. 

John sipped his beer and smiled at one of his oldest friends. “I’m going to be honest with you, Bobby. I don’t have a good feeling on this one. That’s why I came here, actually, not just because those two idiots nearly burned down a field setting off fireworks on the 4th a couple of week ago and I was looking to avoid trouble. I hope to get in another year, at least until Dean has graduated, but, regardless, I want them here, near you. I’m going to enroll them in school here, I want them both to have a home, some stability.”

“Of course, John,” he said quickly. “They – you all – can live here until you’re back on your feet. Hell, I feel like the house is a bit too quiet anyway when they aren’t here, running up and down the stairs and yelling at each other and doing piles of laundry every other day.”

John laughed, “I know. Personally, I’m not sure which is worse, the noise or the smell. I tell you, sometimes when we’re in the car together after a hunt, my eyes water.”

The other man laughed, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I’ll tell them later but right now, this is between us,” he said, turning serious a moment later.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bobby said. “Just let me know what you need.”

And that was the last time they spoke of the subject. John went away several times over the next six weeks on what he said were easy solo hunts and was gone for several days, each time, and each time coming back looking slightly more tired. But it was summer, the Olympics and bombing were dominating the tv and news, and San and Dean were both enjoying the last bit of freedom that came in early August and didn’t notice. Plus, they were both excited about the idea of staying in Sioux Falls ‘at least through Christmas to help Bobby with some projects’, according to their father. 

Now, on a Friday night, just over six weeks after their initial conversation, the subject had been brought up again and was staring them straight in the face, unable to be ignored.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” John said calmly. “Will you do me a favor and take Sam out for lunch and errands or a movie or something. I’ll be to you around noon and I need to talk to Dean first.”

Bobby’s breath caught in his throat for a second before he said, “Of course. We’ll go to the mall and do some back to school shopping. The kid needs new jeans like crazy.” He paused, “We’ll be back around 3:00, maybe?”

“That’d be perfect, thank you.”

OOooOOooOOoo

The next morning over breakfast, Bobby said, “Sam, you and I are going shopping today. I was looking at the laundry and your jeans are a disaster, boy. I think every pair has either a rip or a stain, not to mention the fact that you’re growing like a weed.”

Sam made a face, “I was hoping to go to Jason’s this afternoon.”

“I can take him after school,” Dean said, quickly. Jen, a girl he had been eyeing in his Homeroom and Economics class had casually mentioned that she and her friends always went to the mall after school and he was welcome to join them, if he wanted. 

Bobby shook his head, “No, I know full well why you want to go to the mall and it’s not to help your brother get clothes.” In reality, he had no idea but judging by Dean’s quick blush, he figured he was on to something. “I’ve got to go into town today anyway and I’ll take him. Dean, you can take advantage of the house being quiet and clean up that sty of a room you two are living in. You told your dad it would be clean before he got home and it’s certainly not that way now.”

“Dad’s coming home?” Sam asked excitedly.

The older man nodded, “Yeah, he said he’d be here sometime today and I’d like to show him that I do at least a half-way decent job of keeping you two heathens somewhat on track.”

The boys laughed and moving on to other subjects and what clothes Dean needed, if they were going shopping anyway. 

Dean was stunned and, as what his father had just said began to slowly sink in, felt the tears start to come. Angrily swiping them away, he leaned his head back on the sofa and tried to comprehend the news. His head was spinning and he felt himself crumble inside. Turning to look at his father, he swallowed hard and then begin to cry full out. “Dad …”

“I’m so sorry,” John said, pulling his son close and holding him while he sobbed. “It’ll be OK.”

“How? How can it ever be OK with you gone?” he asked, crying. “I can’t … Sammy. How…”

He hugged him closer, rocking slightly, instantly transported to trying to comfort his 4 year old son who had woken up from a bad dream, crying and screaming for his mommy, and knowing he could do very little to take away the pain and fear. “We’ll figure it out, Dean. Nothing will happen to you or Sam, I promise.”

Finally crying himself out, Dean shifted slightly but didn’t let go of his father and didn’t pull away from the tight embrace. “When are you going to tell Sam,” he asked quietly. The truth behind Bobby’s errand with Sam having slowly sunk in while he cried in the quiet house. The knowledge that the two other men had planned how to break the news, together, brought him a small sense of comfort. Even at 17, there was comfort in knowing that someone else – two trusted adults - had a plan.

“When he and Bobby get back,” John said simply. “I wanted to tell you first.”

Dean nodded, “I’ll be strong for Sam.”

“I know you will, Dean, but it’s not just that,” John said softly, kissing the top of his son’s head. “You and I have gone through so much together, already. I didn’t want to keep this from you any longer than I had to. I couldn’t have done half the things I’ve done – we’ve done – without you. I am so very, very proud that you are my son.”

Closing his eyes again, Dean began to cry again.

An hour later, John shifted and glanced at the clock. He kissed his son again and squeezed him. The younger mad had stopped crying a little while ago but had seemed in no hurry to move out of his father’s embrace. “Sam and Bobby will be getting back soon. Why don’t you go wash your face and I’ll get us something to drink? I think we both need it.”

Wordlessly nodding, Dean slowly got up and went into the hall bath. Looking at himself in the mirror, he felt the tears start again. Ruthlessly pushing them back, he quickly washed his face and blew his nose. Heading back to the kitchen, he made a face at the two cans of coke sitting at the kitchen table. He laughed, knowing what his job was in this situation, and said, “I had higher hopes when you said we both needed a drink.” His father had officially let him have half a beer twice that summer and he had been thrilled - immediately feeling more grown up and like a man. 

John recognized the coping method and smiled, “Sugar and caffeine … best thing for you right now.” Pulling a container of cookies out of the cabinet, he put it down on the table and sat down next to his son.

“Dad …” Dean started, his voice cracking and eyes filling up with tears again, unable to stop himself.

“No,” John said softly, putting his hand over his son’s hand. “Let’s just sit here for a few minutes and make sure we’re both in good shape for when Sam gets back. There will be plenty of time to talk, I promise. I’m not going anywhere for a while. There will be plenty of time.”

Dean nodded, swallowing hard, and pushing down his fears. He knew his job; knew he needed to be strong for Sam, needed to be the big brother, and make sure the younger boy had all the support and love he needed. Taking a sip of his coke, he reached for a cookie and tried to eat it. Finally, he said, “I think my Lit teacher might be a witch.”

John snorted and choked slightly on his own coke, glancing at his son with a smile. “And why do you think that?”

Taking a deep breath, Dean began to weave a funny story about the teacher’s power of perception on who was silently praying not to be called on to answer a question, the picture of an evil looking black cat on her desk, and funny looking necklace she wore every day that looked suspicious to his trained eye.

The atmosphere in the kitchen relaxed as they sat around drinking cokes and nibbling on cookies and sharing stories.

John glanced over at Dean as the sound of Bobby’s truck came through the open screened door. He reached out, grasping his son’s hand and squeezed it, before saying, “It’ll be OK.”

Dean nodded and, blinking back sudden tears, got up and threw away his empty coke can in the trash. Going to the screened door, he stepped out on the porch and smiled as Sam and Bobby came up from the parking area. “Guess who’s home!” he called, smiling.

Sam grinned, “Dad!”

“Hey kiddo,” John said, coming up behind Dean. A second later, he hugged Sam, ruffling his hair. “I swear, I’ve been gone three days and you’ve grown.”

“Like a weed,” Bobby confirmed with a smile. “Of course, considering how much they both eat, I’m not surprised.” He looked at John, handing him the three shopping bags, and said, “How was the trip?”

He nodded, “Good, it went well.” Then, turning to Sam, he held out the bags, “Come upstairs and show me what you bought. I’ve got laundry to do too and we’ll put your new stuff in there with mine and get everything washed before school on Monday.”

Sam nodded, “OK.” He turned to Dean, saying, “We got you some stuff too, but you’ll have to try it on first.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, “just throw it on my bed and I’ll look at it later.” He looked at Bobby, unsure what to do but also sure he didn’t want to be in the house a second longer as his father and Sam went upstairs.

“Come on out with me, boy,” Bobby said quietly, holding open the screen door. “We’ll go for a drive.”

Feeling tears starting to fill his eyes again, he wordlessly nodded and followed the other man out to the truck. They didn’t go far, just to the edge of the property, and a small ridge that overlooked the rolling plains ahead of them.

Bobby glanced at the younger man silently crying next to him and pulled him close. Hugging him, he said, “I am so sorry, Dean. I wish there was something I could do.”

“What are we doing to do, Bobby?” he asked in a low voice. “How do I take care of Sam? How do I keep him safe without Dad?”

“Well, luckily, you have a bit of support,” the other man said dryly, ruffling his hair lightly. 

Dean laughed, “I know and thank you.” He looked at him, saying, “I’m guessing this is why we moved here over the summer? He knew back in July and wanted us – me and Sammy – some place near you.” There was no anger or accusation in his voice, just a question and statement of fact.

Bobby nodded, “Yes. He didn’t know for sure what was going on but suspected something was wrong in July.”

“He’d been tired and sick lately but kept making jokes about getting old and how I was going to need to pick up the slack for him in his old age. We joked about how maybe he could get some sort of trick cane with built in weapons,” Dean said, with a half laugh, remembering the jokes and car rides earlier in the summer. The laugh turned to a half sob when the reality of there not being an ‘old age’ for John hit him again. “God,” he breathed out.

“It’s OK, kid,” Bobby said, hugging him again. “You are going to cry and laugh and laugh and cry more often and quicker than you would think is possible.” He paused for a minute before saying, “When Karen died, I would be crying my eyes out one second as I packed up her stuff and then laughing a minute later when I’d find some stupid, ratty t-shirt she insisted on hanging on to because we bought it on some random vacation together.” 

Dean laughed, hugging the other man back. “You can never have too many t-shirts. Where did you guys go for vacations?”

Pausing at the stairs, Dean looked back at his father who was sitting at the kitchen table with Bobby. They had returned to the house two hours later and found John alone. His father nodded and he slowly made his way up to the bedroom he shared with his brother. He opened the door and saw Sam curled up on his bed, face toward the window. The younger boy didn’t move as Dean shut the door and walked over, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“He told you?” Sam asked in quiet voice, not turning around.

“Yeah,” Dean said, toeing off his shoes and laying down on the twin bed next to his brother. “He told me and then Bobby and I talked some more when Dad was up here with you.” When Sam didn’t say anything, he rolled on his side and bumped his brother’s back, “Hey, Sammy, look at me.”

Sam shifted and turned his head to look at his brother. His face was streaked with tears and his eyes were red. Even as his eyes met Dean’s, they begin filling with tears again and he rolled over, moving closer and pressing himself against his brother.

Wrapping his arms around him, Dean held him close like he had done since the boy was six months old. “It’ll be OK. I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you, Sammy. We’ll be together, I promise.”

“I guess we’ll stay here, with Bobby?” Sam asked a few minutes later, not moving away from his brother.

Dean sighed, his mind a whirlwind, “I guess but don’t worry about it now. You know Dad, he always has a plan.” He squeezed his brother, “As soon as I know something, I’ll tell you, I promise.”

Sam nodded but stayed quiet.

Dean could feel the younger boy crying again against his chest and decided that it would be OK if he joined in too, just one more time. Hugging him tightly, he let his own tears flow and knew, deep down, he was crying not just for his father but the end of his own childhood and life as he knew it. Things would never be the same after today and there was no going back for him. The least he could do was protect Sam and make sure his childhood didn’t end too soon as well.

OOooOOooOOoo

Laying in bed Tuesday night, Dean looked at the ceiling, unable to get his mind to shut off. Sunday had been quiet, each person lost in their own thoughts but the week was starting completely normal and like every week so far, with the exception that their dad was home.

John had woken them up at the normal time on Monday and immediately cut off Sam’s complaints and desire to stay home. “Life goes on, Sam,” he said firmly. “That means you get up, you go to school, do your homework, just like normal. I’ll be here when you get home.”

Dean had rolled over in bed, burying his head under his pillow until his father turned his attention to his older son. 

“And that goes for you too, Dean. I know you’re awake, so get up and get a move on it. Do not make me come back in here,” he said firmly, shutting the door behind him. 

After two days of going through the motions, Dean was already exhausted but also unable to sleep. Rolling over in bed, he sighed and punched his pillow. 

“Are you awake,” Sam asked quietly.

He sighed, “Yeah, dude. What’s up?” 

“I don’t want you to hunt anymore,” Sam said. “I’ve been thinking about it …”

“I wondered what that burning smell was,” Dean said automatically, trying to lighten the mood and avoid an emotional conversation late in the night when his reserves were already depleted. He simply wanted to go to sleep and escape everything for the next six hours.

Sam huffed, sitting up, “I’m serious, Dean. Hunting is what is killing Dad, it’s killed other people, it’s gotten you hurt and him hurt and I just don’t want you to do it anymore.” His voice broke slightly but he didn’t cry. “You can’t risk it. I can’t lose you, too.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Sammy,” Dean said, sitting up and making his way over to his brother’s bed and sitting down next to him, trying hard not to resent Sam’s needs. “And hunting isn’t what’s killing Dad. He has cancer, normal boring cancer, just like hundreds or thousands of other people who think the neighbor’s cat is the only thing that goes bump in the night.”

Sam shook his head, “But if he had a regular job, he wouldn’t have brushed off being sore or tired or sick. He would have gotten to a doctor sooner, they would have caught it sooner, and ...” His voice trailed off into a hitching breathing noise. “We have to be normal now.”

“OK, Sammy,” Dean said, pulling his brother close. “I’ll talk to Dad.”

“Promise me, Dean,” he said firmly, twisting and looking at his brother. “Promise me you’ll be safe and careful. You have to promise me; I don’t want to be alone and if you leave me too…”

“I promise,” he said, cutting off his younger brother’s worry and having no clue how to keep that promise.

OOooOOooOOoo

Sitting at the kitchen table Wednesday night doing his homework, Dean waited until Sam went to the bathroom before approaching his father, who was watching tv with Bobby. “Can we go someplace and talk tomorrow?” he asked. “Just me and you?”

John nodded, “Of course, son. Any time. Why don’t I pick you up at school tomorrow?” He glanced at Bobby, asking, “Are you around tomorrow afternoon?”

The other man nodded, “Sure and I’ll keep the kid occupied.”

OOooOOooOOoo

John was true to his word, waiting in the pick-up line in front of the school exactly on time on Thursday. When Dean slid into the car, he smiled, grasping his shoulder for a quick, side hug. “Any place in particular?”

Swallowing, he was suddenly nervous about the conversation and shook his head. “No, not really.”

“OK, then,” he said before pulling out of the line. They stopped briefly at a drive thru for milk shakes and then continued to a nearby park. Benches overlooking the river and falls were just a few steps from the parking area and the whole place was deserted this time of day. Sipping at his own small shake, John said, “How are you doing, Dean?”

He shrugged, saying, “I don’t know.” Taking a sip, he blurted out, “Sam doesn’t want me to hunt any more … after. He says that’s why you’re … dying and he’s scared of me getting hurt and wants me out, totally, and for us to be normal.” His voice cracked on the last few words, his mind silently screaming that there would soon be a very different definition of ‘us’ and that ‘normal’ had never applied to them in the first place.

John took a deep breath and looked out across the water for a long moment before nodding. “I can understand Sam’s fears,” he said quietly. “It’s a dangerous life and it worries me to think I won’t be here to protect either one of you. Bobby’s a good man and I know he loves you boys deeply but he’s also involved in the life and, when you’re involved, things happen.” Putting down the shake, he pulled his son into a hug and said, “I’ll take care of it though. Give me a few days to figure out some stuff and then we’ll talk.”

Dean nodded.

“This is a nice spot,” John said, looking around the river and park. He glanced at his son and said, “It was nice picking you up from school today. I haven’t done that in a while.”

He smiled, “Yeah. Rare treat not to have to take the bus.”

“Why don’t we plan on doing this every Thursday then? Give us some time to talk alone, if you want.” His voice was hesitant, unsure how his son would react to the offer and if he would want to give up an afternoon with friends to hang out with his father.

Dean nodded, “I’d like that.” He glanced at his father and said quietly, “I think Sammy would like something like that, too.”

John nodded, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Dad understands,” Dean said, sitting on his bed and looking at his brother before dinner. “He said he’d figure some things out and let me know.” 

Sam nodded solemnly, “And you promised.”

“I promise,” he said, smiling at his brother and then laying back on his bed, covering his eyes with his arm to block out the light. “I’ll figure something out.” He was so tired and wanted to do nothing but lay there, eyes covered, door shut against the world, and block everything out until he felt more able to deal with life. But, too soon, he heard Bobby calling them for dinner and he was up, smile on his face. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“I want you to have all the information, Dean,” John said, handing him a folder the next Thursday afternoon after his son slid into the car at the school curb. “We’ll sit down and go over everything and then, if you have more questions later, you can ask.” He glanced over at his son, “How’s that sound?”

Dean nodded, surprised at the thickness of the file in his hand. He hadn’t been sure what to expect and wasn’t even sure if his father remembered their conversation and his promise the previous week. The only mention had come the night before, when he was turning in for the night and John had casually mentioned that he’d pick him up the next day, if Dean still wanted to do that. Now, flipping through the paperwork, he was surprised to see the amount of work and detail. “I didn’t know you were selling stuff,” he said, glancing up several minutes later

John nodded, pulling the car into the park’s parking lot. “I started putting out feelers several weeks ago and then Bobby went to Buffalo to clean out a storage locker I have near there and to meet with the dealer.”

The younger man nodded, aware that Bobby had left for a quick trip on Friday, returning late on Tuesday. The amounts listed by the various items weren’t all large, $1,000 for a charm, $5,000 for a particular box, a knife simply identified as ‘dragon’s blood’ was $19,500 but the list went on for three pages. Dean’s eyes went wide when he saw the figure at the bottom. “Dad, there’s over $800,000 on this list.”

He nodded, “Yeah and after the dealers’ cut, there will be just over $500,000. Plenty of money for you and Sam to live a normal life for a few years, at least. We’re looking at a few ways on how to set it up to be the best for taxes and account for the money but that’s not something you have to worry about.”

Dean looked at him, “But I thought you always said it was wrong to sell these items? I thought that’s why you had them locked up and out of reach?”

John smiled slightly, “Well, yeah. I don’t really agree with selling this stuff and am not sure it’s really right but …” He paused, searching for the right words, “Having the money is more important to me right now for you boys then these kinds of ideals. Other hunters certainly sell stuff and there’s a big market.” Shrugging, he added, “Plus, anything that’s really dangerous or cursed has been moved and is now safely stored in one of Bobby’s lock-ups. The only things I’m selling are weapons, relics, some charms with reported protection powers, that kind of stuff.” He chuckled and gave another shrug, opening the door, “Plus some items that I personally think are totally worthless but lore has given them some value and who am I to say that someone can’t believe.” He nodded toward the picnic tables, “Come on, bring that folder and your drink and we’ll go through it. There’s some other things that I want to show you.”

He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised by the planning his father had done but he was still stunned. On the surface, his father might not look like the best parent in the world – frequent moves, dangerous situations, rigid rules and strictly enforced discipline, rather lax parenting standards compared to the parental norms of the modern age; he never attended parent-teacher nights, knew none of their friends or what classes they were taking, and hadn’t signed a permission slip for anything since Dean perfected a scrawl that could pass for John Winchester and took over that task when he was 10. But, he also deeply loved his sons and knew the realities of the life they were living. His will was up to date and Pastor Jim’s church paid for life insurance, helping to ensure that if the unthinkable happened, the boys wouldn’t be left totally destitute and in the hands of the state. 

Flipping through the folder, document by document, John explained each one, making sure that Dean understood it all. “These are just copies, of course,” he said. “Bobby has another set of copies and all this information, too. A lawyer in Blue Earth that is friends with Pastor Jim and knows the life has the originals of anything that’s official and that will need to be processed when I die.”

Dean bit back an involuntary and small moan but not before his father heard it.

John pulled him into a quick hug, kissing his head, “I know but it’s going to happen, son and pretending it won’t, isn’t going to make it any more real.”

“I know, Dad,” he said softly, taking a deep breath and pushing down the wave of sadness. “You’re right. It’s like … when Sammy said he was scared of the monster in the closet, you showed him how to kill it and didn’t lie about there not being anything to be afraid of.”

The older man laughed, “Right. Not sure I should have given him a gun right then but the idea was sound.”

Dean laughed too, shaking his head at the memory. Turning his attention back to the folder, he tapped the will, and forced himself to say, “When you die, who gets custody of me and Sam?” The words were forced and he felt that his voice came out too high but he also felt a brief flicker of pride in his father’s minute nod at the straightforwardness of the question. 

“Bobby, until you’re 18. After that, you’re not a minor and this is written to give you guardianship of Sam. Bobby will serve as conservator, someone who oversees and approves and helps you with the financial stuff, until Sam is 22.” John smiled, “And don’t get any funny ideas about blowing through the estate in a month or anything. He and I are on the same page when it comes to financial responsibility and allowances and the difference between needs and wants.” 

The younger man laughed, feeling himself relax slightly as he processed the information and the plans already laid out. “So, does that mean I’m stuck at $20 a week?” he asked. 

“It’s a fair allowance,” John countered with a smile. “Especially since you barely fill the car up with gas when you borrow it. I swear, boy, do you calculate exactly how many tenths of a gallon you actually need for a date and that’s all you put in?” Leaning over, he bumped his son’s shoulder, “It’s impressive math, for sure.”

Dean smiled and gave an embarrassed shrug. His smile slowly fell away as he looked at the still open folder and saw all the details and plans laid out carefully to protect not just Sam but him as well. He felt tears well up in his eyes and he quickly brushed them away. 

“It’s OK,” John said softly, pulling him for a hug. “I might not be here but it’s not all on you, either.”

“Dad and I had a good talk today,” Dean said as he sat on his bed looking at his brother’s back. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t supposed to be up there talking to his brother who was in trouble with their father. Sam had been in a bad mood since he got home from school, short tempered and rude when asked the most basic question by either Bobby or his father. After one such loud and heated exchange shortly after dinner that resulted in a broken plate, John had firmly escorted the younger boy upstairs and the sound of a quick but hard paddling had drifted down the stairs a few minutes later. 

“Your brother is going to sleep early tonight,” John said when he reappeared in the kitchen 20 minutes later. “Do your homework down here and do not disturb him when you go to bed.”

Dean had nodded and ducked his head back into his own books, not wanting to risk a similar bout of parental discipline. His father didn’t spank either one of them often but when he did, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. An hour later, with his father and Bobby out on the back porch and fully engrossed in a discussion about a case another hunter was working on, he decided it was worth the risk.

Rolling over and wincing slightly as his butt made contact with the bed, Sam looked at him. He had clearly been crying but had stopped sometime before his brother came in. “What did you talk about?” he asked quietly.

“He’s made all these plans, Sammy,” Dean said with a smile, trying to paint a rosy picture on the future without going into too many of the overwhelming details. “He’s thought about everything and has all the legal documents already with a lawyer that Pastor Jim knows, so he’s cool. And Dad’s been selling some stuff that he collected over the years, charms and weapons and whatnot, through a dealer and has gotten a lot of money. We won’t be rich but we’ll have more than enough.” He nodded at Sam’s books stacked on a chair, “College, a car for you when you’re old enough, plenty for clothes and food and anything else we need.”

Sam frowned, “We won’t have him and that’s got to be more important than stuff, even to you.”

Dean closed his eyes for a second, pushing down his anger at his brother’s thoughtless words. “Of course, but …” He swallowed, feeling tears prick his eyes before he blinked them away, “But that’s not an option.”

The younger boy rolled back over to face the window, shutting out his brother. 

Giving him a moment, Dean moved over to the other bed and gently bumped up against him. “Hey, want to know the other thing he told me?”

Reluctantly, Sam nodded after a long moment. “What?”

“Bobby will have custody of both of us until I’m 18 but then, after that, you’ll belong to me.” He gave a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood, “So be prepared to wash dishes every night, Sammy boy.” 

“And you’re not going to hunt, right?” he asked quietly.

Dean nodded, “Right. No hunting; we’ll be normal and boring. The fucking Brady family, minus the dog.”

Sam rolled over and smiled slightly, like he usually did when his brother cursed. “And minus like seven people.” 

Leaning down, Dean tickled him on his sides, causing his brother to squirm and laugh, curling up to protect himself. “Oh no, we’re getting a maid. No way am I cleaning up after you. You’re a pig!”

The younger boy laughed and shook his head, “I’m not a pig, you’re the pig. You leave your stuff all over the place and you’re always eating up here, even though Bobby says not to!”

“A hot maid, not old like Alice, in a cute uniform,” Dean continued with a smile, glad to see his brother in a better mood, even if it was for just a moment. 

The door opened suddenly, causing both boys to freeze and look at their father. John glared at Dean, “I thought I told you not to disturb your brother?” And then, turning his attention to his younger son, said, “And I thought I told you to go to bed?”

Getting off the bed, Dean winked at Sam, “Yes, sir. I was just getting something I needed for school.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Sam said softly.

Holding the door open and letting Dean pass in front of him, John caught him by the arm and delivered two hard swats across his son’s jeans. “When I tell you something, I expect to be obeyed. Is that clear? If not, I’ll be more than happy to continue this discussion with you in my room.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean repeated. Making eye contact with his brother, he winked again and scooted down the hall. He paused, hearing his father go into their room. He didn’t shut the door tight and Dean crept back up the hall and paused outside the bedroom. Through the crack, he saw his father sit down on the bed and whisper something to Sam, causing him to roll over and look at him. They talked quietly for a minute before John leaned down and pulled his younger son into a tight hug. Dean swallowed hard as he heard Sam start to cry softly. Turning, he quietly went back down the stairs and sat back down in his seat at the kitchen table. 

“Everything OK, kid?” Bobby asked, coming in from the porch. “I guess your father is upstairs with Sam?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, glancing at the homework on the table for a moment. “He was right to spank him, you know that, right?”

Dean nodded again, “I know. Sam was rude all evening and then basically throwing that plate in the sink was the last straw, Dad would never let him get away with that.”

“And that doesn’t change, even with John’s news,” the older man said firmly. “Sam needs stability in his life and needs to know that things aren’t totally changing.”

“I know,” Dean said again, refusing to lift his eyes from his physics worksheet. He didn’t want to talk about it and he didn’t want to think about it anymore tonight. He was tired and it was hard enough to be light and funny for Sam. Right now, he just wanted to pretend that life was normal again and not feel as if the world and too many responsibilities were resting on his shoulders and how much he would love to curl up and cry again.

OOooOOooOOoo


	2. Chapter 2: October

October

“Let’s get a move on it, boys,” John asked, standing by the kitchen door and looking at his sons. “I’m waiting and we are meeting the realtor in 30 minutes at his office. I don’t want to be late.” 

“Coming!” Sam said, hurrying out the door and following the older man walking toward the car.

Dean signed and drained the last of his juice before putting the cup in the sink. It was Saturday and all he wanted to do was sleep in. His father had other plans though and so they were dressed and out of the house before 9:00am. On Thursday of the previous week, his father had explained that he was looking at houses to rent and they were going to go look at the top two contenders this morning. The idea, like so many other things in the past month, just made him feel tired.

“Dean!” his father called again from the car. “Move it!”

.

“I’m coming,” he called, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to smile. Sam, he knew, was excited about the idea and John had talked up both houses’ yards and bedrooms. Determined not to put a damper on the day, he made sure he grinned at his father as he came out into the parking area. “Sorry, Dad. Just finishing up my juice.”

“The great thing about this property,” Alex the agent said, unlocking the door and letting them in, “is that snow removal and lawn care are included in the price and part of the neighborhood’s HOA. You won’t have to be out scraping the driveway this winter, Mr. Winchester.” He smiled at his client.

John laughed and patted Dean on the back, “Well, with two strong sons, that wasn’t my plan anyway.”

The agent laughed and smiled at the oldest son. The younger son had been more talkative and excited about the first house and clearly seemed interested in this one, especially after they had passed the library just down the street. He wondered about the older boy and couldn’t decide if he was upset about the move or just being a typical teenager. Stepping closer, he turned to Dean and asked, “So, excited to be moving to Sioux Falls? Your father said you all just came in from Denver.”

Dean looked at him for a moment before slowly nodding, “Yeah. It’s fine.” He yawned and stepped away from the agent, slowly looking around the house. Pushing aside the knot of dread in his stomach, he tried to be open and excited about the idea of an actual house of their own. Looking at it, he liked this one much more than the first one and actually liked the neighborhood. The house itself was on a quiet side street and, while the lots weren’t huge, there was enough space between each house that they didn’t feel right on top of the neighbors. The neighborhood seemed quiet and safe and when they had pulled in, he noticed that most of the houses had flags and fall flowers out on their porches and they passed several people out walking their dogs. It seemed homey and very normal, exactly what Sam wanted and needed.

“What do you think, Dean,” his father asked, joining him outside on the screened porch, overlooking the small but neat yard and outdoor patio.

He nodded, “I like it a lot, Dad. And I know Sam will love having that library like 10 minutes away. He can walk or ride a bike, easily. Bobby got him that used bike a couple of weeks ago, so that’s perfect. It’s cool that it already has 2 telephone lines for internet. He’s really gotten into going on the web but can’t do it much at Bobby’s.”

John nodded, “I like the fact that lawn and snow services are included. One less thing for you to deal with.”

Dean nodded, the reality of who would be cutting the lawn or shoveling snow hitting him hard. “Yeah, that will be really nice.”

“Good,” his father said with a firm nod. “I think that settles that then.” Walking back inside, he smiled at Alex and said, “And you said there’s a discount if we sign a 24 month lease?”

Alex grinned, “Exactly! Guaranteed price for the full 2 years. Allows you to lock in a price now and not worry about it again.” He pulled out his pocket calendar, “When would you like to move in?”

John smiled, “As soon as possible. I’m actually going to get my brother-in-law to sign on the lease with me. I travel a lot for work and this way, if there’s any problems, he can take care of things for the boys. We can be at your office Monday morning with the deposit, if that works for you. He’s local and we moved here to be closer to him.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Looking at his father the following Thursday as they sat in their now routine bench by the park, Dean felt a small twinge of concern. The wind was chilly but the sky was crystal clear and he thought the fresh air felt good after being indoors all day and he was comfortable in his sweatshirt. His father though was shivering slightly, despite being in a heavy jacket and gloves. “Do you want to go back to the car?” he asked.

John shook his head, turning his face up to the sun briefly, “No, it feels good. Just cold, but it’s October in South Dakota so … it’s going to get worse.”

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. He tried very hard not to think too far into the future. The next day, the next week, was about as far as he could manage at any one time. “So, what’s on the list for this weekend?” He knew his father had a To Do list and was rapidly crossing items off it and he was determined to be upbeat and helpful about the process.

His father smiled at him, “We need furniture for the house.”

Dean groaned good naturedly, “Ugh … just how I want to spend my Saturday!”

He laughed, bumping his son, “Oh please, you know how it will go. I bet we get that whole house furnished in two hours, tops, and one store. That’s why we’re going new and not fooling around at the used furniture stores, I want this easy and quick … two hours, one store.” 

“No way,” Dean said with a smile. “I bet you $10 it takes us four hours and …” He thought for a moment, thinking of the furniture stores that were near the mall. “And we go to three stores before we find what we want.”

John glanced at him, smiling again, “Does that four hours count having to stop and get Sam lunch? Or is that pure shopping and driving?” 

“Pure shopping and driving,” Dean clarified. “Sam is going to want to go Chili’s, I know, and that’ll take an hour.”

Holding out his hand in mock seriousness, John said, “Then I’ll take that $10 bet.”

Dean laughed, shaking his father’s hand before being pulled in for a quick hug. 

Kissing his son’s head, John said quietly, “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

OOooOOooOOoo

“What do you and Dad talk about when you’re together on Thursdays?” Sam asked, looking at his brother. After school the next day, they had walked out to the edge of the property where Bobby had set up a small shooting range and targets.

Dean shrugged, “Nothing in particular. Yesterday, we talked about how we’re going shopping for furniture for the house.” Even though he had promised his brother no more hunting, he was determined that he wouldn’t allow his skills to get rusty. He loved the life too much and, even if he had to put it on hold for a few years, he knew he’d never fully give it up. Glancing at his brother, he said, “What do you guys talk about?” He father picked Sam up every Tuesday and they spent a couple of hours together but Sam had never mentioned what they talked about or where they went and he had never felt right asking about his brother’s private time. When his brother didn’t answer, he took careful aim with his left hand and fired three quick shots into the target, pleased to see them all hit in a tight cluster in the middle. Switching to his right, he fired three more times and created a tighter cluster.

“He tells me stories about him and mom and then me when I was a baby and growing up,” Sam said quietly. “We go to the butterfly house in the nature center, he got a membership so we can get in free, and we sit there with the butterflies or go see the fish.” He smiled, “It’s always quiet, not too many people around and it’s warm.” Sam looked at him briefly before looking away, “It’s nice to hear the stories again. I don’t remember a lot of it but once he starts telling me stuff, I sort of do.” He laughed, “Like the time we went to the Grand Canyon and rode donkeys and yours kept farting. Dad said we were both laughing so hard, he was afraid we were going to fall off. He said he felt like he really should ride behind us to keep an eye on us but that would mean being behind the donkey, too, and he said the smell was too strong.” Sam giggled, “He said he figured one or both of us would yell if we fell off and he’d deal with it then.”

Dean laughed, suddenly remembering that trip. “I remember that,” he said with a grin. He nodded, “That’s a good memory. That was a really fun trip.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah.” He shrugged, “So that’s what we talk about and …” His voice cracked and he felt his eyes fill up with tears. 

Triggering the safety and putting the gun down on the stand, Dean went over to him and hugged him hard. “I know, dude,” he said softly. “I get it.”

OOooOOooOOoo

“Here, Dean,” John said, holding out the keys to the car as they got near the Impala in the parking lot of the third furniture store. “You won, you get to drive.” He voice was light but he had tired strain lines around his eyes. Between shopping and lunch, they had been out for over five hours and hit three different stores but had everything ordered and set for delivery over the next couple of weeks to the new house.

Dean glanced at his father and then at Sam, who was trailing behind them. “Great!” he said, keeping his voice excited. Turning to Sam, he waved the keys, “Want to ride shot gun? Dad’s letting me drive.”

Sam grinned, “Can I, Dad?”

“Sure,” he said, opening the back door. “Enjoy.”

The younger boy laughed, sliding into the passenger seat with a smile.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Dean adjusted it slightly for his height and glanced into the backseat. His father had his eyes closed and his head resting against the door. He swallowed hard and turned his attention to his brother, “See if you can’t find something decent on the radio. We don’t want to listen to Dad’s talk radio, for sure.”

Sam laughed again and began playing with the radio while they began the drive home.

OOooOOooOOoo

“Let’s just sit in the car today, ok?” John said, glancing at his son the next Thursday as they pulled into the park’s lot. “It’s chilly out and looks like it might rain.”

“Sure,” Dean said, settling back into his seat with a tired sigh. When his father didn’t say anything else, he said, “My Econ test went really well today and I got a 91 on my math test on Monday.”

John smiled, “Excellent! I’m glad you’re getting that math grade up a bit. Think you have a chance at an A?”

Dean shrugged, “Maybe. I just don’t like calculus and feel like I barely know what I’m doing. Algebra and geometry were much easier.”

“Well, you’ll be happy you took it now and you might be able to test out when you’re at college next year.” John glanced at him, “Speaking of which, did you finish your applications? Didn’t you say they were due soon?”

He nodded slowly and glanced across the car at his father. “They’re due November 1st and I’m almost done.” He had missed the first round of applications that spring but would get everything in before the second round closed. “I’ve been thinking about it, though …” he started, shifting in his seat.

“No,” John said firmly, shaking his head. “Don’t even start on that again, Dean.”

“Dad!”

John gave him a hard look and shook his head, “I said no. You mentioned not going to college when I brought the applications to you a few weeks ago and I told you then it wasn’t up for discussion. I don’t know what you think has changed in that time period because I can tell you right now, that nothing has changed.”

“Dad! That’s not fair!” he cried, hitting out at the car’s door in frustration. 

“Well, life isn’t always fair,” his father said evenly. “You told me you wanted to live a normal life for Sam, you wanted to stop hunting, and I fully support that. So, being normal in this day and age means you are going to college, because it’s a requirement for most good, safe jobs and that’s what I want for you. You’re going to graduate high school and go to college, no debate in this.”

“But Sam is the one who wants to be normal!” he said. “I love the life; I love to hunt! I want to keep doing it. It’s what I was raised to do! I don’t need to go to college to do that!” His voice shook with emotion and he hit the door again, wanting to get out and walk, burn off the sudden rush of energy he was feeling.

“Well, then, if that’s what you want to do, that’s your choice,” John said evenly. “I’ll tell Bobby that Sam is going to continue to live with him, at his house, until he graduates high school.” He glanced at his son, “When I’m gone, you can keep hunting then, as much as you want. I hope you have the good sense though to team up with someone you trust and not go off all half-cocked on your own because, as good as you are, you aren’t ready for that.”

“No!” Dean yelled again, shaking his head. “Sam doesn’t want to live with Bobby. He wants our own house; he likes the new house and he wants out of the life. At Bobby’s, he’ll never be out and will just keep getting sucked deeper and deeper in.” He shook his head again, “That’s not fair to him and I could never leave him at Bobby’s alone.”

“Well, then … what do you propose, Dean?”

“I hate this!” the younger man yelled. “This isn’t fair!”

John struggled to keep his voice even as he shook his head, “No, it’s not fair. But it wasn’t fair for your mother to die without seeing you boys even start to grow up. It’s not fair that I’m not going to see you or Sam grow into the fine men, I know you will be.” Reach out, he tried to hug his son, “I wish …”

“I’ve got to go,” Dean said suddenly, jerking open the door and bolting from the car. His breath came out in short pants of anger and he all but ran down the path toward the benches they usually sat at and the river’s edge. He could feel tears starting to stream down his checks and he angrily brushed them aside. Raised to enjoy a large sense of freedom, he could feel the walls closing in on him. They had literally set down roots, were about to have utility bills in their name, and all the responsibilities that came with it. If he screwed up at this school, there was no running from it, no transferring and a clean start in two or three months. In too short of a period of time, it was going to just be him and Sam and the idea terrified him. He was doing his own planning, his own research, but when it finally all fell on his shoulders, he was terrified he’d crumble and fail. 

“I’m sorry, son,” John said, slowly walking over to the railing that Dean was leaning on 20 minutes later. “You’re right, you have options and I shouldn’t push college if you really don’t want to go. Or, you go part time and do something else too.” He looked at his son for a moment, “I just want you to have options.” He paused for a moment, looking out at the river for a moment, “I feel like I didn’t always give you options when you were younger. You had to look after Sam, you had to learn about monsters, you had to help me…”

“I wanted to hunt, I wanted to help you,” Dean said, interrupting his father. “I wanted to look after Sam.” He grinned slightly, “That kid would have no social life if it wasn’t for me teaching him things. Thanks to me, he even has a date, or whatever they call it in 8th grade, to bring to some dance in a couple of weeks.”

Gently bumping him, John nodded, “And you’ve done all of that without complaint. But, I also wonder … worry…” His voice trailed off as he slowly shook his head. “But what’s done is done,” he said finally. “But now, I want to make sure you have options and the best way to have options is to go to college.”

Dean swallowed, “I know and I’ll get my applications in, I promise.” He glanced at him for a second, “They’re basically done now, just need to finish up a few things. I’ll get them done and submitted this weekend, for sure.”

“Thank you,” John said softly. 

OOooOOooOOoo

Dean’s heart jumped when he saw Bobby’s pickup in line the next Thursday. He swallowed hard and tried his best to not run to the truck.

“Your father’s fine,” Bobby said quickly as Dean got near enough to hear him through the open window.

He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes slowly before opening the door and sliding in.

Reaching over, the other man squeezed his shoulder, “Sorry to scare you, kid. He just had a bad headache and was dizzy. Not a good combination out on the road.”

“No,” Dean agreed, shaking his head as the truck pulled away from the line.

“He said to come upstairs when you get home and you can talk up there. He wants to hear all about some science test you had today.” He glanced at the younger man sitting silently next to him. “You Ok, Dean?”

He nodded and took another breath, “Yeah … just.” He breathed out and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the seat. “I just …”

“I know,” Bobby said quietly when he didn’t continue the thought, wishing he could say something to make it better. He and John had discussed how best to handle the situation if the end came suddenly, while the boys were in school and neither had a good solution. They had met with both schools’ counselors to appraise them of the situation and neither woman had been able to suggest any solutions except to offer their direct phone numbers and the school’s protocols to pull the boys out of class and give them some place private until they could be picked up. Privately, Bobby had thought that was a horrible idea and thankfully, John had agreed. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Come on, Sammy!” Dean called from the bottom of the steps on Saturday night. “Can’t keep the ladies waiting!”

Bobby laughed from his seat at the kitchen table where he was cleaning a gun. “Careful now, kid, we already have one ladies’ man in the house, don’t know that we need a second.”

Dean turned and grinned at him, “I can’t help it if I have loads of natural charm.”

The other man laughed, “I wasn’t talking about you, idjit. I was talking about me. I’ve heard you on the phone and seen your track record, so far.” He grinned at the younger man, taking any sting out of his words and was pleased to see Dean laugh.

“I thought Dad was taking me,” Sam said, coming down the stairs in one of Dean’s outgrown dark suits.

His brother glanced into the living room and nodded in that direction. “He’s a little tired so I get the pleasure of driving you and your girlfriend around.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Dean!” Sam huffed, blushing. “It’s just a stupid dance and we’re only picking her up because she’s on the way!”

“Whatever you say, Casanova,” his brother said with a grin. “Go say bye to Dad and let’s get going.” Grabbing his jacket off the hook by the door, he glanced at Bobby and swallowed nervously. “Do I look OK?” he asked.

Bobby studied him for a moment, noticing that the younger man had shaved and put on nice, dark jeans and a clean cream sweater with a collared shirt underneath. Certainly, more stylish and cleaner than what he typically wore on a Saturday. “Are you going in?” he asked, unsure how middle school dances worked. 

“God, no!” Dean said, shaking his head. “I don’t even have to pick him up when it’s over; he’s spending the night at his friend Jason’s afterwards and his parents are picking up a whole group of them. But … I don’t know … what if her father wants to meet Sam’s father or something. I want to make sure I don’t mess things up for him.”

He smiled, “You look nice, the picture of responsibility and clean living.”

“Good, good,” Dean said nervously. He could hear a quiet conversation going on in the living room but didn’t want to interrupt. When Sam came out a moment later, he smiled, “Got your bag?”

The younger boy nodded, “It’s in the car already.”

“Then let’s get this party started, Footloose,” Dean said. 

Sam glared at him, “You’re not going to be making stupid movie references when Emma is in the car, are you?”

Dean grinned, walking of the house, “I gotta cut loose, footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes….”

Sam glanced at Bobby for a moment before rushing out the door. “Dean! Stop it! Please!”

Bobby smiled, turning his attention back to his gun, and shaking his head at Dean’s maniacal laughter coming from the yard before the car started and pulled away.

OOooOOooOOoo

“Is tomorrow Halloween?” John asked quietly the next morning at breakfast.

Dean glanced at Bobby standing at the kitchen counter. “No, Dad. Halloween isn’t for almost a week. Today’s just Sunday, the 27th.”

John nodded, sipping at his coffee. “OK, good. Sam wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Putting down a plate of toast, Bobby sat down opposite his friend. “No, he won’t miss it.”

“Good,” John repeated. “We need to make sure we have plenty of salt on hand, too. Have you got the anti-hex charms ready to go? You know witches are always out and about this time of the year.”

“I’ll make sure they’re ready, Dad,” Dean said. “Plenty of time.”

John hit his hand hard on the table, “No, Dean! There’s not plenty of time! You need to make sure you have them now and not keep putting stuff off. How many times do I have to tell you?” He pounded his fist again on the table, “You keep screwing around and screwing around and it’s going to bite you in the butt and I’m not going to be around to pick up the pieces for you.”

“John,” Bobby said, quietly, reaching over and touching his friend’s clenched fist, still resting on the table. “I’ll take care of it with Dean. Don’t worry.”

“Good, thank you,” John said still glaring at his oldest son. “God knows he can’t be trusted.”

Dean stared at his father for a moment before standing up quickly. “I should go pick up Sam from his friend’s house,” he said quietly. Grabbing the keys from the hook by the door, he hurried to the car. Seeing Bobby come out of the door a moment later, he rolled down the window but didn’t trust himself to speak.

“He didn’t mean it, kid,” the older man said quietly.

“I know,” Dean said, swallowing, refusing to look at him. “Just … this is the …” he struggled to find the right words, swallowing again before looking up at the other man. “Sammy can’t see him like that,” he said firmly. “I can deal with it; I can take it but I don’t want Sam to see him that way.”

Bobby shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure he lays down and takes some pain killers. He seems better after he’s slept for a while, clearer headed, more himself. I know his legs and back are bothering him.”

“I think it’s gone into his brain,” he said evenly, forcing himself to be matter of fact with the unspoken fear. “We knew this might happen.”

The other man nodded, “Yeah, that would be my guess too.” He glanced up, blinking away sudden tears, “I’ll mention it to the hospice nurse tomorrow when she visits and see what we can do. She and I talked about it last week that this was probably coming.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he said simply.

Bobby shrugged, taking a breath to get control of his own emotions, “What was there to say? We were seeing the same thing, nothing to be really done about it, and we both knew it might happen.”

Dean nodded, “I’ll pick up Sam from Jason’s, swing by the new house and kill some time there, lunch and run some errands and whatnot. I’ll give you a call when we’re on our way back, to make sure it’s OK. If not, we’ll go to the movies or something….” His voice trailed off, thinking about his brother.

“Sounds good, Dean.” He paused for a second before saying, “You’re a good son and an excellent brother and your dad knows it.”

He smiled slightly before turning the car on and slowly pulling away. Five minutes later, he pulled off the road and put the car in park. Burying his head in his hands, he sobbed. He and Bobby had noticed small glimpse of personality changes, small memory issues, vacant look over the last few days and John hadn’t driven the car in almost week. But the changes were fleeting and he would be fine for hours on end, carrying on normal conversations. They hadn’t spoken about it, hadn’t wanted to put a name to the fear or even acknowledge that they were both seeing something. Instead, it was easier to pretend that John was tired, in pain, just normal memory gaps that everyone has from time to time. This morning’s episode was too big to ignore and now that it was named, spoken about, they had to face it.

OOooOOooOOoo

On Tuesday, after the high school let out, Dean was waiting in the pick-up line at the curb of Sam’s middle school. His heart broke slightly when he saw his brother’s expression change as he got closer to the car and saw his brother instead of his father, as usual.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked quietly, sliding into the passenger seat.

“He’s OK,” Dean said quickly, starting the car and carefully pulling away. “He’s just tired and doesn’t feel like driving much right now.” He and Bobby had talked in the quiet hours of Sunday night after Sam had gone to bed and John was asleep, thanks to a wonderful drug cocktail from Hospice. They had both decided that Sam needed to be prepared for the quickly approaching end. Bobby had offered to handle it but Dean knew his brother would want him instead. 

“He’s going to be gone soon, isn’t he?” Sam asked softly, looking at his brother. 

Swallowing and blinking back tears, Dean nodded. “I think so, Sammy.” Pulling into the parking area of a church near the middle school, he parked at the edge of the lot and turned, looking at his brother. “How much do you want to know, Sam? Be honest with me – we can talk as much as you want and I’ll tell you as much or as little as you want to know.”

Sam looked out the window for a long moment before quietly asking, “How long, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly. “You know he has Hospice nurses coming, right?” When Sam nodded, he said, “When one came yesterday, she said she guessed about a week, maybe 10 days. They think the cancer has spread into his brain. Once that happens, it doesn’t take long.” Next to him, Sam moaned softly and curled up slightly. “I’m sorry,” Dean cried, undoing his seatbelt and reaching over to hug his brother. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you this much!”

“No!” Sam cried, looking at his brother sharply. “You have to tell me! You have to be honest with me. We have to be honest with each other! We can’t keep secrets. Normal families don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Privately, Dean disagreed with that last statement and wondered where his brother got that screwed up impression … probably from television, he decided, where all problems were solved in a 22 minute story arch. Instead, he nodded, “Ok, I promise. No secrets.”

Sam nodded, “Me too, I won’t keep secrets either.”

Dean cuffed him slightly on the shoulder with a smile, “We’ll see about that in a couple of years, squirt.”

He made a face, “Shut up and don’t call me that.”

Ruffling his brother’s hair, Dean laughed again before turning serious. “But I do promise, no secrets between us. You can ask me anything and I’ll be honest with you. It’s going to be OK; it’ll be hard but it’ll be OK.” 

Sam nodded slightly but didn’t answer as he looked out his side window.

He glanced out the windshield for a long moment, allowing the silence to fill the car and for Sam to absorb the new information. “Do you want to go home or maybe the new house for a while? We can talk there or watch tv or whatever you want,” Dean said finally. “Or we can go get something to eat?” When his brother didn’t answer, he bumped him gently, “Talk to me, Sammy. Or, maybe you want to continue sitting in the car in the parking lot like a couple of losers?”

“Home,” Sam said softly with a small smile. “I want to see Dad.”

“Bobby’s it is,” Dean said, starting the car. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Bobby’s number. “Hey, Bobby,” he said in a cheerful voice. “I was just picking up Sam from school. Do you need anything in town before we head home?” His throat closed for a moment and he nodded, “Sure, we can do that. OK, we’ll be home in an hour or so, then.” Flipping the phone closed, he slid it back into his pocket. 

Sam glanced at him, asking, “Does Bobby need something?”

He nodded, “Yeah, he asked if we could swing into the grocery store and pick up some stuff for dinner and we’re almost out of bread and milk.”

His brother looked at him for a long moment and said, “Is that all, Dean?”

Dean swallowed and then glanced out through the windshield again and slowly shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah, we’ll swing into Hy-Vee and pick that stuff up but Dad’s not having a great afternoon and a nurse is there with him right now. Bobby thinks it might be better if we aren’t home for a bit. Give the meds some time to kick in and for Dad to … feel better.”

He nodded, “Ok.” He gave his brother a small smile before asking, “What do you want to pick up for dinner?”

John slowly made his way down the stairs just before they sat down for dinner. “Looks good,” he said, eyeing the spaghetti and meatballs on the stove. 

“The boys did good,” Bobby said evenly, dishing out the servings. “I didn’t have a chance to defrost anything and just asked Dean to pick up some stuff when he picked Sam up at school.”

“The store made the meatballs,” Sam clarified, smiling at his dad. “Dean and I just bought them and Bobby cooked them.”

John eyed him for a long moment before slowly nodding. “Good, good.”

Dean leerily watched the interaction from a spot by the refrigerator, not fully trusting the slightly off look in his father’s eyes and stilted tone. “Sam, do you want water or milk to drink? Can I get you anything, Dad?”

“Water, but I’ll get it,” Sam said, jumping up from his seat. “I’ll get you some too, Dad.” Filling two glasses at the sink, he carried them back to the table and put one in front of his father before sitting down.

“Let me help with the plates, Bobby,” Dean said, moving toward the stove. “Sam, will you please …”

“What is this!” his father yelled, pushing back from the table. “What are you trying to do to me! What do you think I am, boy!” Glaring at Sam, he pointed at the water glass in front of him. “What …”

“John!” Bobby said, hurrying over to his friend. Touching him on the arm, he said, “It’s just water.”

Dean moved toward Sam, trying to step between his brother and his father. 

“He gave me holy water!” John yelled again. “He thinks I’m a demon or possessed and is trying to trick me! He’s possessed! Tainted! Evil!” Picking up the glass before Bobby could stop him, he hurled it straight at his younger son. 

Dean lunged forward, the glass hitting him on the arm before it shattered on the table, water spilling everywhere.

“I’ve got him,” Bobby said, pushing John toward the stairs even as the other man began to scream an exorcism in Latin.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean said loudly, trying to block out his father’s angry voice and screams. “Let’s get out of here for a few minutes.” With all the weapons on the house, there was no way he was going to risk anything happening. Grabbing his brother’s arm and his keys, he hustled them out of the door. Opening the car door, he pushed Sam into the passenger seat. Coming around the car, he opened the door, pausing for a moment, breathing hard, almost waiting for his father to charge out of the house.

“He didn’t mean it, Dean,” Sam said quietly from the passenger side. “I know he didn’t. I was reading about it at school and I know pancreatic cancer can get into the brain and that can cause all sorts of problems.” He looked up at his brother, “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“I know,” he said softly, still looking at the house and trying very hard not to let his own anger come through in his voice. Starting the car, he said, “Let’s try the Chinese place near the new house. We can eat there and watch tv or something.” He needed easy and mindless for a while. The new house, with its new furniture, and total lack of memories had quickly becoming his private refuge. He had escaped there several other times since they signed the lease and gotten the keys. He had simply sat on the floor in the empty living room and worked on homework or sometimes just laid on the floor and later, the sofa, sleeping and trying to forget for a few hours. He always gave the excuse of out with friends or at the library for school but in reality, he was sitting in an empty house trying to block out the world.

Two hours later, as they were watching Jeopardy and eating Chinese, Bobby called. “He’s calmer and asking for Sam,” he said over the phone. 

Dean glanced at his brother before moving into the kitchen and lowering his voice, “What do you think, Bobby? Is it safe? I’m not putting Sam in danger and we’ll stay here, if we need to.” He smiled slightly at his brother who had turned from the show to watch him. 

“I think it’s OK, now,” he said. “I’ve given him some pain killers and something to help him sleep. He might not even be awake when you boys get back.” He paused for a moment and said, “I’ve also gathered up the weapons and locked them up in my room. Should have done that already, I guess, just ... didn’t think about it. I didn’t expect …”

“I know,” Dean said quietly. “I didn’t either. But it’s Ok, we’ll head back in a few minutes,” he said slowly. “But call me if anything changes, I’m serious Bobby. I don’t care if we’re in the driveway. I won’t …” he allowed his voice to trail off.

“I know, kid,” the older man agreed. “I promise, I’ll call you.”

Pulling into the driveway 30 minutes later, Dean glanced at his brother. “You OK? We can turn around right now, if you’re not.”

Sam nodded, “No, I’m OK. I want to see Dad.”

“OK,” he agreed, shutting off the car, “but at one hint of trouble ….” He spied Bobby standing in the open porch door and felt slightly relieved that John was calmer. He trusted the other man to keep his word and not allow Sam – or himself – to be put in harm’s way.

“Your dad’s waiting for you,” Bobby said, looking at Sam as they walked into the house. “He’s better and wants to talk to you about earlier.”

“Do you want me to go up first,” Dean asked.

“No, I’ve got it,” Sam said, heading up the stairs.

Unable to resist, Dean followed closely behind. When Sam glanced back, he smiled, “I’ll stay out in the hall but … I can’t. I need to be close, Sammy.”

“I am so sorry,” John said hoarsely, looking up from his bed as Sam entered his bedroom a moment later. “I don’t know what happened, what came over me.” Reaching out his hand, he gave a small smile, “I’m so sorry that I scared you, Sam. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

Sitting down on his father’s bed, he laid his head on the other man’s chest and hugged him tightly. “I know, Dad. It’s OK. I know it wasn’t you.”

Out in the hall, Dean listened to the murmured words for a long moment before creeping back to their shared bedroom. Yawning, he laid down on his still made bed and threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light.

“You handled tonight well, Dean,” Bobby said, knocking on the door frame 10 minutes later and letting himself into the bedroom. “I’m proud of you.”

He shrugged glancing at the doorway, “It’s fine. I’m glad Dad and Sam are talking.”

The other man nodded, “Yeah.” He paused for a moment before moving in closer and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What about you? Do you want or need to talk?” he asked quietly. “You can talk to me about anything, you know.” Reaching over, he carefully untied the older boy’s shoes before sliding them off and dropping them out of the way on the floor. 

Dean shook his head, “I know but there’s nothing to say. I’m just tired.” Putting his arm back over his eyes, he sighed, “I’m just tired,” he repeated.

Patting his leg, Bobby nodded. “OK, then get some sleep and Dean?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t forget, that offer is always open. You can talk to me about anything, at any time.”

He nodded, uncovering his eyes and smiled at the other man, “I appreciate it, Bobby. I really do. And I appreciate everything you’ve done. It’s …” His voice cracked slightly, trailing off and he angrily shook his head, “You’ve been fantastic and this would have been 1,000 times worse without you.”

“I’ll always be there for you, Dean,” he said firmly. “You’re not alone in this, I promise.” Watching the younger man for a long moment, he patted his leg again, hoping to get him to open up and knowing it was probably futile. Standing up as Sam entered the bedroom, he pulled the younger man into for a quick hug. “You OK, kid?”

Sam nodded, hugging him back before going over to his bed and kicking off his shoes. Waiting until Bobby had closed the bedroom door, he shut off the overhead light before laying down next to Dean on the twin bed. 

Rolling over slightly, Dean hugged him close, blinking back his own tears and silently cursing his life, as his brother began to cry softly against his chest. 

OOooOOooOOoo


	3. Chapter 3: November

Chapter 3: November

Three nights later, John silently watched the clock change from 11:59pm to 12:00 midnight. It was officially November 2. The date had been looming in his mind since the horrible night with Sam and he had been determined that his sons – and Mary’s sons – would only have to deal with one death anniversary. The pain was ever increasing and he had to constantly hold tight to his emotions, biting his tongue as unexpected rages swept over him time and again over the last few days. He had refrained from coming down for dinners and quietly insisted that Bobby be with him any time he was with the boys. After seeing that the three letters he had written weeks ago were in plain sight, he began to open vial after vial of the prescribed liquid morphine and dumping it into a small shot glass, controlling the one last thing that was his to control as his body and mind betrayed him. Smiling at Mary’s picture on his bedside table one last time, he quickly downed the liquid and laid down on the bed. Holding tight to the brief memories he had of all four of them together in their old house, filled with laughter and not the smells of fire, he smiled as he felt the drug hit his system. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Kid, what are you doing up so early?” Bobby said in a tired voice Wednesday morning when he saw Dean appear at the bottom of the stairs. The last couple of weeks had been a series of semi-sleepless nights and not even the lopsided election returns dominating the TV last night had been able to put him to sleep until the early morning hours. It was rapidly catching up to him and he was sure that Dean felt the same way.

He shrugged, “I couldn’t sleep and there’s so much to do.”

The other man sighed and shook his head, “I’ve got it under control and there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m the executor, I can handle things. You should go back to bed or go do something fun with Sam. We just got the death certificates yesterday.” He studied him for a moment before saying again in a gentle voice “You look tired but don’t worry - I’ve got everything under control, Dean.”

Dean looked at him for a moment but shook his head. “I’m OK and I should help you. It’s not fair to dump it on your shoulders.” He yawned before pulling out a kitchen table chair and sitting down next to the other man. 

Bobby pulled him in for a hug and kissed his head. “No, Dean, not today. If you want to help and be involved, we’ll look at what needs to be done this weekend. You’re beat and I’m just doing the legal stuff, which you really can’t help with anyway.”

Feeling himself bristle at the reminder of his age and the legal restrictions, the dependency on someone, even as trusted and as loved as Bobby, he angrily shook his head. “This is such bullshit! Sam is my responsibility, not yours!” he countered, feeling himself give into the anger simmering just under the surface. Shoving the table in frustration, he was weirdly satisfied to see the salt shaker tip over, spilling slightly. 

The older man raised an eyebrow at him and said firmly, “Do not take that tone of voice with me, boy. I know how your father raised you, I saw firsthand, on multiple occasions, his expectations for you and your behavior. Those expectations and standards aren’t changing one iota, just because he’s gone.”

Opening his mouth to respond, he instead pushed away from the table. Glaring at the other man for a second, he turned and quickly pushed the outside door open and stalked out into the cold morning, pausing just long enough to step into some of Bobby’s work boots sitting on the porch. They were cold and stiff and a size too big as he made his way down the steps, causing him to slip slightly going down the icy stairs. A layer of heavy frost lay on the ground and he could see his breath as he made his way through the back and past the salvage yard entrance. He had no clue where he was going but just needed to move and cool off before he said or did something he’d regret. Coming up to the back of the property’s shooting range, he leaned against the fence, breath coming in short gasps as he bent low and rested his head on the smooth wood of the fence rail. 

Bobby watched him for a long moment from the house until he was satisfied that the younger man had stopped running and wasn’t in danger of either going too far or doing anything too stupid. It was cold, for sure, just below freezing, and he didn’t have a coat on but he was healthy and young. A few minutes, even an hour, out in the cold certainly wasn’t going to put him in danger. Glancing at the Hospice provided ‘helpful suggestions’ check list that John had given him in the information folder and another check list in John’s own handwriting made him sigh. Despite the months of planning, he suddenly felt wholly unprepared for the task that lay ahead. It hadn’t been a shock, per say, to find John dead Saturday morning but it still hadn’t been easy. He had quietly tossed the empty morphine vials and put the glass in the dishwasher before waking the boys and calling Hospice. Pouring another cup of coffee, he sat back down and glanced at the clock. He needed to call both schools and get that paperwork sent to them, at the very least, today. He and John had visited the school together the previous month to find out exactly what was needed and ensure the school was aware of the situation. He was allowing both boys to stay home this week but it was going to be back to school and a normal routine on Monday.

“Where’s Dean,” Sam asked, coming down the stairs 30 minutes later.

Bobby glanced up and smiled, “Hey, kid. I was just going to go get him. He’s out by the fence thinking, but it’s been long enough.” He had gotten up twice since the older boy had stormed off to check on him and knew he was still there, and last time he had checked, now sitting on the fence, staring into the woods beyond the house. “Why don’t you put on some shoes and a coat and go get him for breakfast. Bring him a coat too, please.”

“Is he in trouble?” Sam asked softly, not moving.

“No, no, not at all!” he said, standing up and moving toward the younger boy. “He just needed some time to himself, I think.” Giving him a quick hug, he added, “But I know he’ll like to see you, so hurry up now.”

Sam nodded, “OK.” Slipping on a pair of sneakers from the living room and his coat, he grabbed Dean’s coat as well and walked out into the cold morning. “Hi,” he said, coming up behind his brother.

“Hey,” he said, not turning around. “Bobby send you out here?”

Climbing up on the fence and sitting down next to his brother, Sam handed him his coat. “Yeah, he said breakfast is going to be ready soon.” He slid slightly closer so they were touching and fell silent. 

Dean sighed and put on the coat, silently glad that he had stopped crying before Sam came out. “I guess we should go in, then,” he said, making no move to get off the fence. It was nice to sit out there, in the quiet, in a spot that he and Sam and their father had spent many fun hours over the years, and simply be still for a while. He could feel his brain slowly stop spinning and his stomach slightly unclench from the overwhelming feelings of panic and pressure. 

“Dad showed me how to use a bow and arrow here for the first time,” Sam said quietly after a long moment. “I was horrible at it.”

He laughed, “That’s right! I remember that!” Smiling at his brother for a second, Dean shook his head, “I think it took you something like 20, 30 arrows to even hit the bag. Dad couldn’t figure out how you were so bad.”

Sam laughed, “Yeah, I remember him telling me to just look down the arrow, line it up and let it go. It just didn’t work.” 

“Well, dude, it really helps when you keep your eyes open!” Dean said with another laugh.

“I didn’t realize I was closing my eyes!” he protested, bumping against his brother. “It was just happening!” He smiled, remembering his brother’s excited voice coming from basically this same spot, yelling and exclaiming happily that he was closing his eyes before shooting. He smiled, realizing how closely his brother had to be watching to see something like that. “You were watching,” he said evenly.

“Of course,” he said matter of factly. “Someone has too.” He glanced at him with a sly smile, “Have to make sure you don’t shoot your eye out.”

Sam groaned, “That’s a bb gun, not an arrow.”

Dean bumped against him and with a sigh, jumped down off the fence. “You’d figure out a way to do it, I’m sure, squirt.” He winked, waiting for his brother to join him on the ground, “Guess we should go get breakfast.” As they were walking back to the house, he said, “Bobby said we should go do something fun today. Any ideas? Maybe go see the movie about the killer lions in Africa? I think it just hit the dollar theater.”

Sam smiled, “Yeah, that looks good and I think we need Christmas stuff for the new house. Maybe go shopping for that and we can go to lunch?”

Privately, Dean thought that looking for Christmas decorations sounded like torture but it was out of the house and maybe he’d catch a bit of the upcoming holiday spirit. Thanksgiving was around the corner and the stores, he knew, were already rolling out the Christmas stuff now that it was November. “Sounds like a plan! We’ll get Bobby to come to lunch with us. He might like the movie, too.” He laughed, “I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to point out all the hunting errors they make.” 

“Good timing,” Bobby said, seeing them walk inside a few minutes later. He smiled, “Wash up please and then set the table. Biscuits will be out of the oven in about 10 minutes.”

“Sorry about earlier,” Dean said quietly, standing next to the other man by the stove while Sam washed his hands at the sink.

“No need to apologize,” he said, shaking his head. Pulling the younger man into a hug, he said, “It’ll be OK, kid.”

“Yeah.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Two weeks later, Dean woke to the sound one of Bobby’s phones ringing. A moment later, another phone went off. Getting out of bed, he made his way into the hallway and heard the other man on the phone talking quietly but urgently. 

“Where? Yeah, OK, thanks. Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll be ready.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked coming into the man’s bedroom. It was 3:12am and pitch black outside, dark clouds covering up the moon.

“Fred Jones is in the area and was tracking an okami. It got him pretty good before he managed to escape and he’s on his way here. He’s about 10 minutes away.” Getting out of bed, he pulled on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt. “Go back to bed, I can handle this, Dean. I’m sure it’s just some cuts and bruises. A bit of whiskey and a few band-aids and he’ll be fine.” He smiled slightly, “It’s a school night, after all.”

Dean smiled slightly, “I remember Fred. He helped Dad and me with some weird ghost thing when I was in 6th grade over by Lake Tahoe. It was one of my first hunting trips. Afterwards, he snuck me a beer while Dad was out getting some supplies. Said I had earned it.” He laughed, shaking his head slightly, “Dad didn’t agree … at all.”

Despite the lateness, Bobby smiled, “That’s putting it mildly. I remember John still ranting about it, and you having trouble sitting, when you both swung by to get Sam the next day.” Nodding in the direction of the boys’ bedroom, he said, “But go on, get back to bed. I’m sure he’ll be here when you head off to school and you can catch up over breakfast.”

Yawning behind his hand, Dean nodded. “But wake me if you need help. I’m great with stiches and dislocated shoulders.”

Bobby tried very hard not to think of all the ways that statement was wrong and simply nodded. “Good night.” He glanced at the window as the sound of an approaching car could be heard at the start of the drive. “Sleep well, kid.”

Dean had just drifted to sleep an hour later when he suddenly jerked awake to the sound of running footsteps and a second later, the sound of a shotgun filled the house. Jerking out of bed, he ran toward the door. “Stay here, Sam!” he barked, opening the bedroom door. 

“Dean!” Bobby yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “Stay up there! Don’t come down! There’s an extra shotgun in my bedroom, grab it and you boys barricade yourselves in your room and wait for me.”

Running into the other man’s bedroom, Dean grabbed the shotgun from its position behind the dresser and hurried back into his bedroom. He heard a screech from the back porch area of the yard and felt his heart freeze. Slamming the bedroom door, he turned to his brother.

“What’s going on, Dean!” Sam cried, standing by his bed.

“Get in the closet, Sam! Now!” he barked, locking the bedroom door and trying to shove the heavy dresser in front of the door. 

Sam swallowed as the sound of another gunshot echoed through the house. “Let me help,” he said, running over to the dresser and shoving it into place with his brother. 

Dean nodded when the dresser was in place. “Get into the closet, please, Sammy.” His voice caught in his throat, “Please.”

The younger boy shook his head, “No, not without you.” His eyes filled with tears as he tugged on his brother’s hand. “I can’t lose you, too, Dean. I can’t.” He looked at the door as the sound of yelling filtered through the wood and another screech and multiple gun shots, followed by a loud, inhuman scream. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly. “Come on.” Grabbing his brother’s hand, he pulled him into the small closet and shut the door. “Lay down, against the back wall,” he said, pointing to the far wall of the small walk in space. Grabbing a pile of clothes and a spare blanket, he dumped them on his brother, completely covering him. Then, sitting down, facing the door, gun cocked, he leaned back, trying to shield his brother as best he could.

“I can barely breath!” Sam said. 

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean said harshly. “You have to be still.” He jumped slightly as he felt a hand wiggle free and grasp his bare foot. Reaching down, he patted it. “I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.” Through the material, he could feel Sam shaking. “It’s OK,” he repeated, squeezing the hand still holding on to him. Trying to control his own breathing, he listened to the sounds in the house, jumping with each thud and crash and gun shot and terrified that he would soon hear something coming closer.

Sam cried out as a long, high scream filled the house for a long moment before falling silent. 

“It’s OK,” Dean said again, leaning against his brother. “I think that’s a good sign. I think it’s OK.”

“Don’t go out there!” Sam cried, his hand latching hard onto Dean’s foot. “You can’t go out there!”

“I’m not, don’t worry,” he said softly, still trying to hear what was going on. “I’m not going anywhere, Sammy, I promise.” Glancing down, he saw that his brother had moved the blanket from his face and tried to smile as their eye met. “It’s OK” he said, trying to ignore how terrified his brother was and hide the fact that he was equally scared. Not for the first time since their father had shared the news of his illness, Dean silently cursed his life and the resulting responsibility that it brought on him.

“Boys!”

They both jumped and Sam yelped at the sound of Bobby’s voice. 

“It’s OK, you can come out now,” he called.

“It may be a trick,” Sam whispered harshly. “Don’t go! It might be a shapeshifter or a vampire might have turned him or it’s a demon or a …”

“I have to,” Dean said firmly, interrupting the list and unpeeling his brother’s hand from his foot. “But you stay here, just in case.” Slowly standing up, he opened the closet door cautiously, relieved to see the dresser still firmly in place.

Sam pushed himself up and grasped the back of his brother’s shirt. “No! I’m staying with you. You can’t leave me!”

“OK, OK,” Dean said, shrugging him off. “But stay back and stay out of the way.” Nodding toward the dresser, he said, “Help me move this just a fraction, just enough so I can open the door a crack.”

Sam nodded, “OK.”

Together they slid the dresser a few inches from the door, just enough space for Dean to reach down and open the door an inch. Looking into the hall, he felt a surge of relief to see Bobby standing outside their door, unharmed. A smear of blood was on his face and another on his shirt but he looked to be in one piece. He knew he should run tests to make sure but he also didn’t care. If Bobby was gone too, he knew he didn’t stand a chance at protecting his brother and just hoped it would be over quickly. 

“Just me, boys,” he repeated. “It’s OK. You can come out now. Fred is taking care of the body.”

Dean felt tears prick at in his eyes as he turned back to Sam, “It’s fine. Help me move this back, please.” With several hard shoves, the piece was back in its normal place and Dean opened the door wide. “What happened?” he asked, brushing back a couple of tears that had started to fall. 

Coming into the room, Bobby, carefully reengaged the safety on the abandoned shotgun on Dean’s bed before sitting down. Holding out his arms, he pulled Sam close. “It’s OK, Sam. It’s OK,” he said as the younger boy started to cry. He glanced at Dean, still standing by the door and motioned him over. “Come here, kid,” he said softly, holding out his other arm. 

“What happened, Bobby?” he asked, moving over and sitting on the bed. He felt himself begin to shake as the older man pulled him into a hug as well and bit his lip to stop a sob from escaping. 

“You’re OK,” he repeated softly, his own breath coming out in harsh gasps. Visions of his own Karen and then other children over the years filled his head as he held the two boys. Several long minutes later, he said quietly, “The okami that Fred was tracking followed him here. It attacked and took us a few minutes to take it down. Those things are strong sons of bitches and you have to stab them seven times to get it stick. Otherwise, they just pop back up and you have to start all over again.” He kissed the top of Sam’s head and squeezed him tight. “It’s OK, Sam,” he repeated. Giving Dean another hard hug, he said, “How are you doing, boy?”

“OK,” he said. “I got the gun, like you said and then Sam and I shoved the dresser in front of the door. I hid us both in the closet and I was prepared …” His voice trailed off as he felt a shudder run through him. It certainly wasn’t the first fight he had been in but it felt different without his father, without knowing what was going on, and with Sam to directly protect. John had done his best to keep his younger son directly out of anything but simple salt and burns or investigative trips and had been determined to protect the boy’s childhood longer then Dean’s had been protected. 

“You did good,” Bobby said firmly. “Really good.” He glanced at the clock, “I’m guessing there’s no sense telling you to go to sleep, now, is there?”

Dean laughed, “No.” He glanced at Sam and saw his brother’s eyes closed. “But, I do think laying back down for a bit will be good.” The idea of school suddenly seemed overwhelming. Luckily, school was out the whole next week for the Thanksgiving holiday and that meant little was going on the last couple of days. If they missed another day, he knew the teachers would be understanding.

“Sounds good,” Bobby said, squeezing Sam again. “Want to lay down and try to rest, Sam?”

He nodded, letting the older man go and wearily standing up. “Thanks Bobby,” he said quietly, yawning. 

Dean nodded, “Thanks.” 

“Night, boys,” Bobby said, starting to shut the door behind him. “I’ll make sure Fred stays quiet until you’re up again.”

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean said quietly, straightening the sheets and blankets of his brother’s bed and motioning him under the covers.

Sam shook his head, “I want to sleep with you.”

“Fine,” he said, feeling suddenly exhausted as the rush of fear and adrenaline drained out of him. “But don’t hog the blankets.” He smiled as Sam laughed, laying down in his brother’s bed. Turning off the light, he laid down, “Move over, squirt.” Curling on his side, he sighed as Sam bumped against him. He patted him gently on the shoulder, “You did good tonight, Sammy.”

“You too, Dean. Thank you for not leaving me.”

“Never.” Laying in the darkness, listening to his brother’s breathing slowly even out, his mind raced at all the ways this night could have gone wrong. He and his father had discussed it, he knew, as much as he didn’t want to face it, that there would be nothing normal about living at Bobby’s. From the books, to the weapons, to the calls in the middle of the night, to an attack by whatever an okami was … none of that fit into Sam’s vision of normal and what he was determined to provide until his brother was through with school. Swallowing and shifting slightly, he sighed and dreaded the conversation he knew he and Bobby would need to have in a few hours.

OOooOOooOOoo

Carrying the last of the bags and a few boxes into the new house’s garage Saturday afternoon, Dean glanced at Bobby and gave him a small smile. The conversation had been hard but the older man had known it was coming as well. “Good thing we have really don’t have that much stuff or this would have taken forever.”

He nodded, “It’ll take you a bit of time to figure out what all you need.” He smiled, “I see multiple runs to Walmart in you boys’ future and hopefully, good sales with the holidays.”

“But not on Thursday,” Sam called happily, coming into the garage from the house.

“No, not on Thursday,” Bobby said, reaching over and grabbing him to tickle his sides. He laughed as the younger boy giggled and squirmed under the assault. “On Thursday you’re going to eat so much, you won’t be able to walk. I’m making a turkey and stuffing and green beans and sweet potatoes.”

“We’re bringing the pie!” Sam said, still laughing. “Two types because we have to have pumpkin and Dean wants pecan.”

Dean laughed. “Speaking of eating, let’s go to lunch. I’m starving.” Walking over to the other man, he threw an arm around him, “Thanks Bobby.” His voice was low and felt his breath catch in his throat as he struggled with what else to say.

“Of course, kid,” he said quietly. Then, half carrying a still laughing Sam, said, “Where do you boys want to go for lunch?

“Put the groceries way, please,” Dean said, dropping the bags on the kitchen island two hours later. They had lunch and then stopped at the grocery store for some staples and dinner stuff to tide them over for a few days.

Sam made a face, putting his three bags next to the others but nodded silently. “Is Bobby leaving?”

“Yeah but not for a while. We have a few things to do to secure the house,” Dean said. “And you know, we’ll see him on Thursday, if not sooner.”

“OK,” he said softly, turning his attention to the groceries and empty pantry. 

Dean watched him for a moment before heading back into the garage where Bobby had pulled several spray cans from the back of his truck. 

“Last thing, kid,” he said. “You want me to paint the devil’s traps or you think you can handle it?”

Dean smiled, “I’d love the help. If you want to tackle the front, I’ll start painting the back.” Grabbing two cans, he headed back inside. Right after they rented the house, John put simple looking but 100% iron decorative garden fences at the base of each window, forming what looked to be flower areas for the spring but, in reality, creating a barrier against ghosts and demons. Now, the devil’s traps would create a second layer of protection from demons. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as his brother moved the area rug from in front of the screened in porch door ten minutes later.

“Putting down a devil’s trap,” he said evenly. He glanced up, “If you’re done with the groceries, you can help.”

Sam smiled, “Cool!”

Two hours later, the traps painted, dried, and recovered, an iron knife buried by both doors, and iron horseshoes nailed up over the doors, Bobby nodded approvingly. “Well, it won’t keep everything out, of course, but short of really scaring the neighbors, I think it’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Dean said. Nodding in the direction of the tv set up in the living room, he asked, “Do you want to watch the game or anything?”

He shook his head, “No but I appreciate it. I’ll let you boys get back to unpacking and getting settled.” He swallowed and looked around the clean house, “It’s a good house. John did good.”

Feeling tears suddenly prick his eyes, Dean nodded, “Yeah, he did.”

“OK then,” he said quickly, coming over and hugging Sam. “Be good and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

Sam smiled and his voice cracked slightly as he said, “With pie.”

“Yes, with pie for sure or no turkey!” he said with a laugh. Glancing over at Dean, he smiled. “Take care, boy.”

The younger man nodded, “I will.” Blinking back tears, he said, “Let me walk you out so I can shut the garage door behind you.”

“You OK, kid?” Bobby asked when they were alone in the garage a moment later. 

Dean nodded and sighed. “Yeah. Just …”, his voice trailing off as he glanced at the closed door to the house. “I just hope this is the right thing for him. I hope I can do a good enough job.” He laughed slightly, shaking his head again, “One day at a time and all that.”

Pulling him into a tight hug, Bobby said, “You’ve got this and I’m all of 20 minutes away. You can come over any time. Hell, your dad sent Sam to me several times when you boys needed time apart, no reason you can’t do the same thing. He’s fine, you’re good, it will work out.” Privately, he hated the idea of them living here together but knew that, especially after the scare the other night, Dean needed to try to find their new normal. And normal, for Sam at least, meant at least somewhat removed from hunting.

“Thanks Bobby,” he said, taking a deep breath and nodding. Pulling back slightly, he smiled, “So Thursday? Pie?”

He laughed, “Yes but if you boys get bored or need any help, give me a call.” Walking out of the garage, he turned and waved as Dean shut the garage door.

Walking back into the house, Dean sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, and turned on the TV. Cable had been hooked up along with everything else and right now, he simply wanted to sit and forget about life for an hour. He smiled as Sam came down the stairs from the bedrooms and, moving his arm, allowed his brother to sit down next to him on the sofa. Not saying anything, he pulled him close and handed him the remote. 

Sam laughed, curling up slightly against his brother and began to change channels, looking for something for them to watch. A few minutes later, after settling on Jaws for the hundredth time, he glanced up at Dean. “I wish Dad was here,” he said softly.

“Me, too,” he said simply. “Me, too.”

OOooOOooOOoo

They spent all day Sunday unpacking and making a list of little things that had been overlooked. When you had mostly lived in long term hotels and furnished rentals, it was hard to think of all the little things that were in the background … trashcans, more hooks and hangers for Dean’s closet, kitchen towels and hot pads, and a new bolt lock for the room down in the basement where Dean was storing all their weapons after he and Sam tried to install the one they had and found it didn’t fit properly. Monday night was spent with Sam happily looking up pie recipes in cookbooks borrowed from Bobby and writing down the ingredients they would need for a quick grocery run on Tuesday morning. Years of grocery shopping together when John was gone or simply too busy had made them a perfect team and allowed them to get in and out of the busy store easily. Now, Wednesday evening, with the two pies cooled and wrapped, they were once again sitting on the sofa together watching TV and reading. It was comfortable, easy, and felt like so many of their days and nights over the years. It was so easy to forget that John wasn’t just off on a hunt and coming back in a few days that Dean actually found himself thinking ‘Oh, there’s Dad’ when the phone rang once that evening. The truth slammed into him hard a second later, bringing tears to his eyes that he quickly blinked away, counting himself lucky that he hadn’t given voice to that passing thought.

“What’s for dinner,” Sam asked, glancing up from the book he was reading to look at his brother. He was sitting sideways on the sofa, back up against one of the arms and his feet pressing against Dean’s leg. 

“Leftover spaghetti and meatballs from Monday night,” he said evenly as he turned on the national news. Their father had always read the paper each morning and watched the news when he was home in time. It seemed like the sort of things adults did and Dean had decided it was something they should do as well. “Let me watch the news and then we’ll eat.”

Sam looked at him and rolled his eyes, “Since when did you start watching the news?”

“I’ve always watched it!” he protested. “You just didn’t pay attention.” Eager to switch subjects, he asked, “What are you reading?”

He held up the book, “Great Tales & Poems by Edgar Allan Poe. And we have to memorize a poem and recite it in a few weeks. On Monday, we’re signing up for which poem. Each poem can only have two people per.”

“Go for ‘To Helen’.” Dean said with a nod. “Or, if you can’t get that, ‘Eldorado’. They’re both short and easy.”

Sam laughed, “How did you know that?”

Grabbing his brother’s foot that was laying next to him, he tugged it, tickling his brother’s leg, “What do you mean how do I know that? I had to read the same crap when I was your age, dude. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

The younger boy laughed, tugging his leg free, “Stop! And no, I just am impressed you remember it.” 

“And I’ll make sure I get you to school nice and early on Monday so you can be the first one to sign up,” he said with a grin. “Last year, when we were at that school in Lincoln, for my Lit class, we had to do sort of the same thing; sign up for a book and each book could only have two people for it. I was at my teacher’s classroom, sitting in the hall, waiting for her to show up that morning, to make sure I got Candide by Voltaire.”

“Did you like it?”

Dean shook his head, “God no, it was horrible and I didn’t understand it at all. But it was only like 90 pages and the shortest by far.” 

Sam laughed, “90 pages is easy!”

He laughed with his brother, “The people who didn’t sign up until class got stuck with The Brothers Karamazov.” He shuddered, “No way could I deal with that.” Dean chuckled again, “I actually recycled the paper I wrote for Candide two more times last year at different schools.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that, Dean,” he protested, making a face.

“It’s not cheating, I wrote it and I read the book,” he countered with a shrug. “No different than when I read the book the first time. It’s not my fault that schools have no imagination when it comes to reading lists.” Turning back to the news, he smiled, remembering how carefully he had saved all of his school reports on labeled disks, ready to bring to the next school’s computer lab, edit the file with previous teacher’s comments and corrections, and save himself hours of work. He glanced at his brother who had turned back to his book and realized that, if everything went to plan, Sam would spend the next five years in the same school system, with most of the same kids, and probably not remember much of the stress of changing schools three or four or five, if it was a really bad year, times in a single year. The idea made him both very happy and crushingly sad at the same time. 

“Will you set the table, please?” Dean asked as the news ended and he stood up, turning off the TV, 25 minutes later. He had put the meatballs and sauce on low during one of the commercial breaks to save time. Years of cooking for them both, with limited space and time, had taught him how to prioritize and think ahead. “We should be eating in about 10 minutes. I just have to put the garlic bread in and heat up the pasta.”

Sam made a face, “We’re not eating in front of the TV? Since when?”

“Since we have a dining table and chairs and it’s spaghetti,” he countered, walking into the kitchen. “Set the table, please.”

“I don’t want to eat at the table,” he countered, not moving. “We always eat in front of the TV.”

Taking a breath and using the six steps he took back into the living room to avoid snapping at his brother, Dean looked at him and shook his head. “We’ve been eating at a table for months, dude. We ate at the table at Bobby’s basically every night. We even ate at tables, if we had one, when we were staying in hotels. You and I have eaten together at tables, plenty. This isn’t weird, this isn’t shocking.” He paused for a moment, “When we’re just having pizza or something like that, we’ll eat in here but otherwise … the table.” He had no idea why Sam was suddenly making a big deal about this. While their meals in hotels weren’t usually as complicated as spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread, unless it came frozen and on a plastic tray, they had usually at least had eaten on plates or bowls and with cutlery, like most families. True, the plates, bowls, and utensils might have been paper or plastic but still … he had always made sure that, even if they were alone, they weren’t uncivilized. 

“That’s not fair,” he said with a frown. “We watch TV too, when we’d eat.”

“Not a Bobby’s,” Dean countered as he shook his head. “And we’re not doing it here, either. We’re going to sit at the table and talk. We did that too, with Dad, when he was home. This isn’t that out of the blue, Sammy.” He had spent the last two months, several times a week during his lunch hour in the library reading everything he could about – basically – how to be a parent of a teenager. He had told the librarian it was for an extra credit report in health class and, since he wasn’t reading about taking care of a newborn, he felt pretty confident she had believed him. More than one article and plenty of books stressed the importance of family dinners and he was determined to follow that advice. Multiple photocopied articles and his own handwritten notes were stuffed into a folder in his bedroom after being brought home secretly in his backpack. Guessing the copier code had been easy, allowing him to make as many copies as he wanted without paying the usual .05c a page. When asked one time, he had claimed it was for one of his teachers and the librarian had just nodded, by that point use to seeing him in the library quietly doing research over lunch. He had always taken his responsibility to Sam seriously but his father’s news had shaken him to the core and made him determined to no longer wing it.

Sam glared at him before shaking his head and repeated, “That’s not fair.”

Dean looked at him for a moment before shrugging, “Sorry but that’s how it is.” Reaching down, he ruffled his brother’s hair and smiling before turning and going back into the kitchen to finish dinner. He didn’t react when he heard Sam stomp into the kitchen a few minutes later and begin to noisily set the table. 

“Jason and Ray are going to the movies on Saturday to see the new Star Trek movie,” Sam said quietly as they began to eat 15 minutes later. Glancing up from his plate, he looked at his brother for a quick minute before shifting in his seat and looking down again as he stirred his food with his fork.

Dean looked at him and nodded, “OK. Do you need a ride or do they all need rides or …?” He let his voice trail off, unsure of the issue. When his brother didn’t answer, he gently nudged him with his foot under the table with a smile. “Food so good you can’t stop eating to answer me?”

He laughed softly as he took a small bite, before sighing and saying, “Do you think that’s OK? I mean, OK for me to go with them?”

“Sure … why wouldn’t it be?” He took a bite, waiting for Sam to answer him before adding, “I’m assuming they asked you and you’re not like butting in on a date or something.” He laughed and was pleased to see his brother roll his eyes as he smiled back.

“No, they asked,” Sam huffed. “Just …” he paused again, taking another small bite of food. “Just it hasn’t been that long since Dad … I wasn’t sure if I should or if it was wrong or OK or what.”

Dean nodded, putting down his fork. “Oh, got it.” Reaching across the table, he touched his brother’s hand and giving it a gentle bump. “It’s totally OK. Absolutely nothing wrong with going out and having fun with your friends and seeing a movie … even if it’s with the horrible Next Generation guys instead of Kirk and Spock. Piccard isn’t anything compared to James T. Kirk.” He smiled when Sam rolled his eyes again at the long standing argument. “Dad wanted life to keep going on for both of us. School, friends, college, everything. And that certainly includes crappy movies with friends and not just hanging out with me all the time.”

“But I like hanging out with you,” he countered.

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “I like hanging out with you, too. But you have your own friends, just like I have mine, and it’s good to do stuff with them.” He took another bite, waiting to see if his brother would say anything, and when he didn’t, continued, “So give them a call after dinner and find out when and if you or they need a ride to or from or whatnot.”

Sam nodded and gave him a small smile, “OK. Thanks, Dean.”

He smiled back and then switched to discussing the schedule for the next day and when they should head to Bobby’s for turkey, football, and, most importantly, pie. 

“Dean,” Sam hissed a half hour later, covering the phone receiver with his hand as he motioned to his brother across the kitchen. He wiggled the phone and said quietly, “Jason’s mom wants to talk to you.”

Shutting off the water at the sink where he was rinsing the dishes, he made a face.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly with a shrug. Turning back to the phone, he said, “Just a minute, please, Mrs. Anderson. We just finished dinner and Dean’s doing the dishes and has to dry his hands.” He paused for a second, “Yes, ma’am, you too! OK, here’s Dean.” Handing the phone over, he smiled and ducked under the cord stretched from the wall to the kitchen island.

Taking the phone and covering it again with his hand, Dean quietly said, “What’s her name again?”

Sam looked blank for a second and shrugged, “Mrs. Anderson?”

Internally rolling his eyes, Dean smiled and took a deep breath before saying into the phone, “Hi, this is Dean, Sam’s brother. How are you tonight?”

“Hi Dean, this is Meredith Anderson, Jason’s mom. Sorry to take you away from the dishes,” the woman said over the phone, a smile in her voice as she gave a small laugh. 

He laughed back, “Not a problem. It was a good excuse to turn the chore over to Sam and make him finish up.” He caught his brother’s eye and nodded his head meaningfully toward the sink and the half loaded dishwasher.

Sam caught the meaning and with a sigh, pushed off from the island and began to quietly finish the dishes.

“I just wanted to personally let you know how sorry I was – how sorry we all were - to hear about your father,” Meredith said. “Tom and I just can’t imagine what you and your brother are dealing with and wanted to let you know that we were keeping you – both of you – in our thoughts and prayers. Please let us know if there’s anything you need. I’m sure there’s a lot on your plate right now as you’re dealing with moving to a new city and now this.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” he said, swallowing. “I really appreciate the offer. Our uncle has lived here for years but it’s great to have another resource for sure. I know Jason’s been a great friend to Sam and that’s really helped with adjusting to the move here and … everything.”

“He’s been a great friend to Jason, as well,” she said, giving another small laugh. “And such a polite boy! Your father obviously raised you both right.”

“He did, thank you,” he agreed. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it and put Jason on the phone for Sam. I understand they are working out plans for Saturday and some Star Wars movie or something like that. I don’t know, I don’t care, I can’t keep any of those flying alien sci fi movies straight … our policy has always been to go by the rating and not worry too much about the rest.” 

He laughed, “That’s a good policy, I may steal that from you, if I may. Thanks again for the support and I hope you and Tom and the rest of the family have a happy Thanksgiving tomorrow. I’ll probably see you on Saturday.”

“Thanks! And have a wonderful Thanksgiving, too.”

Handing the phone back to Sam who had finished with the dishes and wiping off the stove and counter, he ruffled his brother’s hair. “Here you go, squirt.”

Sam laughed and ducked, taking the phone with a smile, feeling both in awe and proud of his brother’s handling of the call. He sounded like a confident adult, easy going and funny and not like his annoying older brother who sang to the radio and made corny movie jokes. 

Later that night, in the quiet dark of his bedroom, Dean mulled over the lie he had told Sam earlier. He was glad the younger boy was going out with friends on Saturday, for sure, but knew it was a lie when he stated he had friends of his own. He had just started getting friendly with those in his class, a much harder task in 12th Grade compared to 8th, when his father had broken the news. That, and the growing sense of responsibility toward creating a new life for Sam, had all but killed any thought or energy he had for the task of making friends. Instead, he focused on school, his grades, supporting his father, and preparing for life After. Now, with just 6 months left in the school year and before everyone scattered into the wind, he knew he had all but lost the opportunity and found he didn’t really care that much. He had always been more of a loner, happy with a nodding relationship and casual hang out buddies. 

OOooOOooOOoo

In the end, Dean decided, the lack of traditional Thanksgiving memories or family traditions, made the holiday more bearable than it had any right to be. They got to Bobby’s mid-morning and after getting the turkey in the oven, they spent a fun – at least for Bobby and Dean - hour putting winter tires on the Impala in preparation for the coming weather. Sam had sat in the garage with them and pretended to listen to their instructions. The TV was on showing the parade, followed by football, snacks were laid out to nibble on, and a beautifully cooked turkey was pulled out of the oven at 4:00, right on time. They laughed and talked the whole day; Bobby told stories of other Thanksgiving he and Karen and later, he and other hunter friends, had shared over the years. Dean, with color commentary thrown in by Sam, shared their memories of eating at Cracker Barrell, Biggerson’s, and Marie Callenders’ up and down countless interstates and in numerous, anonymous towns. And, of course, they talked about John and how he would have been most impressed with the turkey and the boys’ baking skills with the pies. 

“Dishes are done and all the food is packed up and put away,” Dean said quietly, coming out to the porch where the older man sat with a beer. 

He smiled at him and motioned for him to sit down on the outdoor lounge next to him. “It was a good day, kid.” The evening air was cooling off quickly now that the sun was down but it was still pleasant enough for a bit. They had gotten some snow the week before but that had all melted, leaving behind bare limbs and downed leaves. He turned kitchen duty over to the boys earlier and took the opportunity to escape the heat and, truthfully, the noise of the house for a few minutes, and to be alone with his own thoughts and memories. 

Dean smiled, “It was. I really appreciate all your hard work.” Leaning over, he casually opened the lid to the small cooler of beer sitting on the porch and pulled a bottle out.

The other man smiled, “You boys did just as much work as I did. I just bought the stuff.” He took a sip of his beer, eyeing the motion for a moment before asking casually, “And what are you going to do with that?”

“Ummm … drink it?” he said with a small smile. 

Bobby laughed, “And what makes you think for one moment, boy, that I’m going to allow that? You are 17 years old, going to be driving home in an hour or so with your 13 year old brother in the car on a holiday night, with lots of other idiots out and plenty of police on the lookout for drunks and roadblocks.” He shook his head, “Sure, no way in hell for that situation to go south.” He leveled his gaze and said firmly, “Put it back, idjit, and just know that if you get picked up for drinking before you’re 21, you will not be happy when I eventually come get you and bring you back here. I’m friends with the local sheriff, he and I did a couple of hunts together a few years ago, and even if you don’t want me called … I’d be called. Got it?”

Dean blushed slightly and squirmed in his seat before nodding and putting the beer back into the cooler, “Yes, sir.”

He nodded his approval, “Good call, kid.” Allowing the silence and peace to settle back onto the porch for a long moment, he asked, “How are things going at the house?”

He nodded, “OK, I think. Sam’s going out with friends on Saturday to see the new Star Trek movie …”

“If Kirk isn’t in it, it shouldn’t be called Star Trek,” Bobby said, interrupting with a shake of his head.

Dean laughed, “I know and I told him that but he’s still excited about and I’m glad.” He glanced into the house and didn’t see his brother before dropping his voice slightly and saying, “He tried to pick a fight over nothing last night before dinner but I just ignored it and he seemed to get over it quickly.”

“Good way to handle it,” the other man agreed, glancing back into the kitchen too. “You both are just finding your new normal, new rules, new standards, new … everything and the only way he’s going to learn those is pushing from time to time.” He smiled at the younger man as he took a sip of his beer, “I remember you doing the same thing the first couple of times your dad dropped you off here. You were probably 6 or 7 and stubborn as hell.”

Dean laughed, ducking his head, vaguely remembering those early visits. “I wasn’t use to listening to anyone but Dad and when he wasn’t around, I was in charge of myself and Sam. I’m sure I was a nightmare to deal with.”

The other man chuckled, pulling Dean into a hug, “No, not at all, kid. I’ve seen the stuff of nightmares and you were much, much worse!” He kissed the top of his head and hugged him tighter, “But I still love you … especially when you aren’t being a stubborn jackass.”

Laughing, Dean hugged him back, “Thanks Bobby.”

An hour later, Bobby was pulling foil wrapped plates and bundles from the fridge and stacking them carefully into a grocery bag. “Sam!” he called, “come help carry this stuff to the car. You boys are leaving soon.”

Coming in from the living room, Sam glanced at the closed bathroom door before moving closer to the other man. “Bobby? Can you help me with something, please?”

“Probably. What do you need?”

He leaned closer and whispered, “Can you pick me up from school sometime in the next couple of weeks and take me Christmas shopping for stuff for Dean? I don’t want him taking me and it would be easier with you.”

Bobby smiled, “Happy to. Check your jam packet social calendar and let me know when. We’ll just tell Dean we’re going out to run errands. It’s Christmas time, everyone knows not to ask too many questions when other people go to run errands without them.” 

Sam grinned, “Thanks! We’re getting the tree on Sunday; do you want to come and help?”

Coming into the kitchen, Dean caught the last part. “Good idea! If you come, Bobby, maybe we can use your truck and I don’t have to deal with it in the car?”

“So …” he said slowly, looking between the two boys, “Is it that you want me to come or you want my truck to come?” He grinned as he saw Dean’s slightly embarrassed expression and laughed. “Regardless, I haven’t been shopping for a tree in years. It sounds like fun.”

Sam laughed, “Great! Thank you!”

OOooOOooOOoo


	4. Chapter 4: December

Chapter 4: December

Walking into school on Wednesday, Dean half listened to the conversations going on around him. He smiled at a few groups that he knew but was more focused on getting to his locker and homeroom. After dropping Sam off at his school a full 45 minutes before the middle school officially started but when the school’s library opened, he had 20 minutes to make it to the high school, park, and get to class. It was plenty of time but didn’t leave much time for socializing, but it was also a good excuse to avoid the drama of school and focus more on his own life. 

Pulling out a notebook from his backpack as he sat down, he quickly finished making up a menu and grocery list for them to pick up after school that afternoon. They had been eating Thanksgiving and other leftovers for several days but the pantry needed to be restocked now and they had been too busy on Sunday to do it. Hearing his father’s voice echoing in his head, Den mentally corrected his internal narrative … he hadn’t made time to do it and was now paying the price for that laziness and lack of planning. The idea of shopping also made him think of Christmas and he had very few ideas on what to get Sam. Then, the idea of buying stuff reminded him that he had stop by the bank to deposit a check Bobby gave him for miscellaneous monthly expenses …. and If he didn’t do it today and get some cash back, he wouldn’t have Sam’s allowance for Thursday, the day when their father had traditionally doled out allowances … so more things to add to his To Do List and things to take care of and figure out what – if any - of them could be done before he needed to pick up Sam without running the risk of being late to the middle school and sending his brother into a quiet but very real panic, which had happened on Monday. He got caught by his school’s guidance counselor who ‘just wanted to check in’ and that check in threw off his carefully timed schedule. He had been at the school technically before the 3:45 dismissal but at the tail end of a very long pick-up line. Sam had been pale and slightly breathless when he finally spotted the Impala slowly making its way up the line of cars. Dean swore to himself that he would never be late again.

With a tired sigh and feeling the start of a headache, he closed the notebook at the sound of the bell and shoved it back into his backpack before pulling out his Calculus homework to double check it was finished. Calculus was immediately after homeroom and he often used the extra time to finish up his homework. Switching from a menu and To Do list to the study and calculation of continuous change made him smile to himself as he mentally switched gears and tried to get into student-mode.

“The house looks great!”

Sam turned around from checking the mail that evening and smiled as two women with a dog waved from across the street on the sidewalk of their neighborhood. “Thanks!” he said, waving back to them. “We had fun putting stuff up.” He glanced up at the house and saw his brother still in the garage. He took a small step closer to the two women and asked, “Can I pet your dog?”

One of the women nodded and laughed, “Of course! Her name is Sandy and she’s very friendly.”

He smiled and hurried over, letting the dog smell his hand before squatting down and petting the wiggling mutt. He laughed as she bumped into him, sending him back on his butt. 

“Ok there, Sammy?” Dean called, walking down the driveway.

“She’s very friendly!” he said with another laugh.

Coming up to them, he held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Dean and that’s my brother Sam.”

The woman holding the dog smiled and nodded at him, “Hi Dean. We’re Alice and Monica and the one currently falling in love with your brother is Sandy.” 

The other woman – Monica – nodded up the street, “We live over on Clifton. It’s good to see the house occupied again. We always hate to see empty houses in the neighborhood. And, you were smart to take advantage of the brief bit of warmth and get the house decorated already this past weekend. It was probably our last until April. I’ve heard talk of more snow coming in on Saturday.” She smiled and glanced at the other woman before asking, “Did you just move here or were you already local? Our winters can be pretty long.”

Dean smiled, “We moved from Denver, so use to the winters at least. It took a few months to get stuff settled there so we’ve been splitting our time between our uncle’s house about 20 minutes away and back there. Finally got finished moving a couple of weeks ago and it was great to break out the Christmas stuff and start gearing up for the holiday. Always fun in a new house!” He glanced around the quiet street and added, “It’s a great area, close to Sam’s school, and seems safe.” He deliberately left off the fact that it was close to his school, as well. He and Sam had agreed that, if asked by neighbors, Sam wasn’t to mention that Dean was still in school and instead, explain that his brother worked for their uncle’s company as a mechanic since their move from Denver.

“Oh yeah, it’s very safe,” Alice said with another smile. “We’ve been here for over 3 years now, and there’s only been one issue and that was ….” She lowered her voice before continuing, “Someone’s adult son had a small drug problem and decided to break into his parents’ house while they were on vacation.”

He nodded and tried to look both sympathetic and understanding of the neighborhood drama, “That’s a shame.” Nudging his brother with his foot, he said, “Come on, Sam, we have groceries to put away and I’m sure Sandy would like to finish her walk.” He nodded to the two women, “We’ll let you get back to your walk but it was great meeting you!” 

“You too, Dean!” Monica said before leaning down slight and saying, “Bye Sam! It was very nice meeting you as well.”

Sam stood up, giving the dog one last pat, and smiled, “Bye and thanks for letting me pet her.”

Pulling the dog slightly toward them, the two women continued their walk down the street, talking softly about the new neighbors who had been a growing curiosity for several weeks. In a neighborhood filled with mostly Tauruses, Camrys, and Accords, their black car – a 1967 Impala, according to Jim two doors down – certainly caught everyone’s attention. While others had waved in passing, they were the first in their group of neighbors to actually speak to them and were eager to share their impressions with the others.

Gently bumping his brother as they walked up the driveway, Dean turned briefly and watched them walk away, hoping he had made a good, adult impression. They really didn’t need trouble, to catch anyone’s attention, or for the neighbors to gossip. Luckily, Sam and the dog had certainly hit it off and that had to count for something.

“You know,” Sam said, picking up two of the grocery bags from the backseat as he glanced at his brother with a smile a minute later.

“What do I know, squirt?” Dean asked, taking four other bags and smiling. 

“We have a yard now …”

“No,” he said firmly, knowing full well where that train of thought was going. “No way are we getting a dog. We don’t have time and there’s too much going on now, as it is.”

“But Dean!”

“No and don’t forget your bookbag in the car.”

Sam muttered under his breath as he bent down to grab his bag from the floorboard.

“Either say it loud enough for everyone to hear or don’t say it all,” Dean said firmly and then grimaced as he heard himself echoing their dad’s words. He loved John but also didn’t want to repeat the other man’s harder tendencies and default lack of communication style. Taking a breath, he started, “Maybe it’s something …”

“You’re not Dad, Dean!” he yelled, interrupting his brother with a scowl. “God! You are so bossy all the time! I don’t have to always do what you say because you’re not always right and don’t always know everything! You’re not the boss!” Stomping into the house, he slammed the door behind him.

Glancing through the still open garage door, he grimaced as he saw their next door neighbor at his own mailbox, right next to theirs. “Hi!” he said with a nod, hoping the exchange hadn’t been heard and having that hope dashed a second later when he saw the man laugh.

“Kids!” he called out with a smile and shake of his head. “Got to love ‘em!”

Dean laughed and nodded. “Have a good night,” he called before walking to the house door, closing the garage door as he went in with his elbow on the button, hands full of grocery bags. Putting them down on the island next to Sam’s two bags, he glanced into the living room and wasn’t surprised to see it empty. Sam was probably in his room, pouting or sulking or throwing a one-man pity party, he irritably thought to himself as he put away the groceries. Walking back to the front of the house where the small office was, he stuck the grocery receipt in an envelope and jotted the amount down on a sheet of paper tucked inside. He and Bobby were still debating the best way to keep track of their expenses and, for right now, they were sticking with a very straight forward tally and receipt system. Pulling out his wallet, he tucked some cash into another envelope, leaving out a $20 for himself and two $5s for Sam’s allowance. He knew he should go get his own bookbag from the car and get started on his own homework and reading assignments before he had to start dinner in an hour but the idea just seemed overwhelming. Instead, he picked up the phone and shut the office door.

“Hello,” Bobby said a moment later.

“Hey Bobby.”

“Sounds like it’s been a rough day, kid,” he said, sitting down in his own kitchen, sensing this wasn’t going to be a quick call by the younger man’s voice.

“Sam thinks I’m the worst person in the world or at least a classic dictator… emphasis on the ‘dic’ part, because I said we couldn’t get a dog.”

The other man laughed, “So tell me what happened and let me assure you that you are neither the worst person in the world nor a dictator. You boys have enough on your hands without throwing in a dog!”

Dean laughed, “That’s what I told him.” Leaning back in the office chair, he closed his eyes and recounted their normal afternoon, errands, meeting with the neighbors, and Sam’s blow up and his own failure to manage his own schedule better.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Dean,” he said softly as the story wrapped up 15 minutes later. “Don’t worry about this list you’ve created, don’t worry about cooking or homework or whatever else. Is anything actually due tomorrow or are you just borrowing trouble?”

He sighed, “Just trouble, I think. I just …” He swallowed, not wanting to admit how mixed up he was feeling when he had basically brought this on himself. They could have stayed at Bobby’s and none of this would be all on him. He could have figured out a way to keep Sam safe at Bobby’s, probably.

“It’ll be OK, kid,” he said after a long minute of silence. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself and expecting too much,” he repeated.

“But I’ve done this before!” he protested suddenly. “I’ve cooked, I’ve managed school and Sam’s school and it was fine! And here, it’s barely been two weeks and I’m overwhelmed! I screwed up this weekend by not doing enough to prepare for the week and now it’s just snowballed into a sucking black hole. I should have gone shopping and cooking before we got the tree on Sunday or Saturday, even, since Sam was gone, but instead fooled around with pulling out Christmas stuff and laundry, which could have waited. I’ve got to do a better job; Sam deserves so much better than this.”

Bobby was silent for a long moment before asking, “Do you realize that your dad’s been dead for basically a month? That’s it, Dean … 30 days. And that’s after two stressful months this fall. Do you think that maybe you might not be juggling everything perfectly, as if that’s even possible to begin with, because you’re grieving and tired and hurting, too … just as much as Sam but not giving yourself time or space to do that?” He was quiet for a moment, giving the younger man a chance to think and absorb the words before saying in a quiet voice, “As much as you did for Sam when your dad was out hunting and not at home, that’s nothing compare to this, now. Throw in the pressure you’re putting on yourself and your own grief and hell, boy … I’m impressed you’re getting groceries! That’s more than I did some weeks after Karen died.”

“I have to make sure Sam has food,” he said dully.

“Yes, but your world has been rocked and turned upside down as much as his, so cut yourself some slack, too. You’re clearly giving him plenty of room to twist and turn and stomp around, you deserve the same space.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah, that’s what the neighbors would love to see.” He put his head down on his arm resting on the desk and sighed, “But maybe you’re right.”

He snorted, “Of course I’m right. Haven’t you learned that by now, boy? I’m always right and don’t you forget it.”

Laughing again, he straightened up. “Yes, sir. I think I’m just going to order us a pizza and go talk to Sam. I just can’t deal with cooking tonight.”

“Good plan,” he said. “Order pizza and sit and look at the cool tree we put up on Sunday and go to bed early tonight. I’m sure you both need the rest.”

Saying good-night a minute later, he took several deep breaths and walked upstairs to his brother’s room. The door was closed so he knocked before going in. “Want to talk, Sammy?”

Sam rolled over on his bed and looked at his brother, his eyes red from crying and nodded.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled. “I’m sorry I was quick to say ‘No’ in the garage earlier. I should have at least listened and we could have talked about it.” Their father never – rarely – apologized when he was out of line and that was another lesson he was determined not to repeat with Sam.

He shook his head, sitting up, “It was my fault. I know asking for a dog is stupid. We can’t afford one and we can’t take care of one and I shouldn’t have asked.” Leaning in closer, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Pulling his brother into a hug, Dean chuckled, “Are you just sorry you asked or also sorry for yelling at me, calling me names, and then slamming the door when I tried to talk to you? You know what Dad would have done with that combination.” 

“Sorry for everything,” he whispered. He took a ragged breath, holding his brother close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s OK, Sammy,” Dean said, shifting a bit so he could hug his brother more comfortably. “One of those days, huh?”

He nodded but remained silent for a long moment before asking, “Do you miss Dad?”

Dean swallowed, the question catching him off guard and making his voice freeze for a moment. “Every day, Sam, without a doubt, every damn day.” He paused for a minute before saying quietly, “You want to know something? Something really, really honest?”

Sam nodded, “No secrets, remember?”

“Right,” he agreed before swallowing hard and resting his head on his brother’s head and whispering, “Sometimes it feels like every hour and minute, too.” Even as he said the words, he felt the cold honesty behind them. At first, it had been easy to pretend John was just off, like he often was, and would be back. Life went on, school and meals and chores, and it wasn’t that different. Now though, the cold reality of John never coming back through the door with stories and small looks of pride at how well they were holding things together had hit hard. He blinked back tears even as he felt his brother nod. 

“Me too,” he whispered.

Ten minutes later, Dean smiled as he ruffled is brother’s hair, “Ready to get the rest of the evening started or you want to sit here some more?” 

“Stop messing with my hair,” Sam huffed, pulling back with a small laugh.

“Never!” he countered, smiling. “So, do you have much homework tonight?”

Sam shook his head, “No, just some algebra problems, which won’t take long.”

Internally sighing in relief at one less thing to manage, he said, “Good! Then come downstairs with me and I’ve got a bit to do, too. We’ll get that done and I’m ordering pizza for dinner tonight. I think we both deserve a relaxing evening and tv.”

“Voyager is on tonight,” Sam said with a grin. “And The Sentinel.”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes as he stood up. Grinning back at his brother, he shook his head. “Great, nice relaxing, crappy tv.” He laughed, hauling his brother off the bed and tickling him on the sides, “Just what I want to watch. Kes is the only even halfway pretty woman on that whole ship and the guy with the hair on The Sentinel … I’d take clippers to your mop before I’d allow that.”

He laughed, curling up slightly against his brother’s assault as he tried to squirm away. “But wouldn’t it be cool to have super hearing?” Laughing, he tried to break free, “Stop it, Dean!”

“After sharing a room with you for years and your weird noises? No thank you, especially when it comes with a super nose, too,” he countered, laughing and letting his brother wiggle free. “Come on, Sammy. Think about what you want on your pizza and we’ll order in about 30 minutes.”

OOooOOooOOoo

“Don’t forget that Bobby is picking me up from school tomorrow,” Sam said the next Wednesday night as he set the table for dinner. 

Dean nodded, “I remember and then you guys are either going to call me when you’re done with your secret errands and I’ll meet you for dinner. Or, if you’re done early enough, come back here and we’ll go out together.” He glanced at the timer on the stove and saw they had five minutes left. “Want to give me any hints on where you’re going?” he asked casually. 

“No!” Sam said firmly and laughed. “You’re just going to have to wait.”

He smiled, “Fine but don’t be surprised if I have secret errands of my own to run.” It had been a much better week for them both and he had high hopes that, as they began the easy slide toward the end of the school year and a needed two week break, things would continue to go smoothly. The grocery store had been quiet when they went early Sunday morning and they had spent the afternoon cooking and prepping everything they would eat during the week. Some stuff couldn’t be done in advance but he felt like, with this new system, he could get dinner on the table in 30 minutes. That left plenty of time for homework and to spend some quiet time with Sam afterwards without them both being stressed, on edge, and snapping at each other. Leaning against the island, watching the seconds tick down on the oven, he yawned.

“Are you tired?” he asked, coming over from the table.

Dean nodded, “Yeah, a bit.”

Sam looked at him for a long moment before saying, “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

He smiled, holding out his hand and pulling his brother close. “No, I’m not getting sick, I promise. I’m just tired and ready for Christmas break in a couple of weeks and two weeks off and sleeping in!” 

“And movies! You said we’d go see the Mars one and the horror one with Drew Barrymore for sure.”

Dean looked at him, “I certainly didn’t say that about the horror one, I think that’s rated R.” He glanced out at the darkness, “Did you turn the Christmas lights on outside?”

He gave his brother a withering look, “As if some actor in a costume could scare me, Dean. And yes, I turned on the lights when I plugged in the tree.”

Grabbing his brother again, Dean ruffled his hair, “It’s not you I’m worried so much about, Sammy, it’s your little friends I don’t want traumatized by whatever you tell them. Or god, their parents calling me to bitch because you’re telling them how cool it was and they have to deal with the fall out. They like me right now, seem to be under the impression that I’m a responsible adult, and I want to make sure I stay on their good sides.” No attention, no gossip, under the radar was his – their – motto – until at least June and his graduation. He and Bobby had debated about when to file the appropriate paperwork to petition the courts to declare Dean Sam’s official guardian and the lawyer in Blue Earth was looking into the different precedents and guardianship requirements. Bobby’s guardianship of both of them had been a quick, rubber stamped deal a week after John’s death but they were both concerned that Dean’s would require more finessing. 

“If I promise not to tell anyone, can we go?” Sam said, smiling broadly.

Pushing off from the counter as the timer went off, he laughed, “We’ll talk about it because it does look really good.”

Sam smiled and laughed, knowing they would be going to see the movie. His brother had been taking him to see horror movies for several years and they had always watched them at home. While their father didn’t exactly approve, it had been a long standing tradition that what happened while their dad was away stayed just between them.

“How’s your Edgar Allan Poe poem going?” Dean asked, pulling the small casserole from the oven. “You have to give that tomorrow, right?”

He nodded, “Yeah and it’s good. I know it cold, I think.”

Dean smiled, “Excellent. I want to hear it after dinner. Grab the plates and carrots, please and let’s eat.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Exiting his last class of the day the next Tuesday, Dean stopped at his locker to gather his books and was started to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. He glanced around before pulling it out, flipped it open and felt his heart freeze at Bobby’s private number on the small display. “What’s wrong, Bobby?” he asked quietly. Cell phones were incredibly rare at his school and he was in no mood to answer questions about how or why he had an $900 phone in his hand. He had known enough though not to question the How when Bobby had pressed it into his hand two days after John broke the news to them in September.

“Don’t get upset …” the older man started.

Dean closed his eyes as his stomach clenched, “Is Sam OK? That’s all I need to know right now.”

“He’s fine, Dean but I guess there was some problem at the school and the principal called me to come pick him up and have a chat. But he’s fine, just in trouble.”

“What?” Dean said more loudly then he intended. “That makes no sense, that kid has never been in trouble a day in his life, or at least not in school.”

“I’m just repeating what I’ve been told. I’m driving there now and about 10, 15 minutes away …”

“I’ll meet you there,” he said, interrupting. “I can be there in 5 minutes.”

Bobby sighed, knowing this was going to be the outcome of the call but also knowing the older boy would never forgive him if he hadn’t been called. He had waited until he knew school was out, not trusting that Dean would actually stay at his own school once he knew Sam was in trouble. “Do not go in without me,” he ordered in a firm voice. When Dean didn’t answer, he said, “Do you hear me, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered before disconnecting the call and snapping the phone closed before shoving it back into his pocket.

“Cool phone, man!” a voice next to him said loudly. “Can I see it?”

He glanced over and smiled at the other guy two lockers away. He vaguely knew him from physics and nodded, “Yeah. It’s pretty nice.” Slamming his locker closed he quickly walked away, cutting off further questions. Pulling onto the middle school campus five minutes later, he parked instead of joining the small but growing pick-up line where he normally killed 25 minutes doing his own school reading, making small talk with other parents if there was a group gathered talking about some issue to help boast the opinion that he was a responsible adult, or occasionally catching a quick nap. He had mentally given Bobby until 3:25 before he would ignore his instructions and go in alone. He had just opened the car door when the other man’s truck pulled in next to his.

“Getting some air? Maybe stretching your legs?” he asked dryly, getting out of the truck and eyeing Dean.

Giving a half-way embarrassed shrug, he didn’t answer but instead followed him into the school. 

“Let me do the talking, Dean,” Bobby said firmly. “Got it?”

He nodded, feeling himself relax slightly when he spied Sam sitting on a bench in the office with no visible bruises, blood, or marks. “Hey Sammy,” he said softly, touching his brother’s head and giving it a gentle nudge.

“I didn’t do anything,” Sam said quietly, glancing between his brother and honorary uncle.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bobby said. “I’m here – we’re here,” he quickly corrected, “and we’ll figure out what’s going on.” He glanced at Dean and said, “And remember, let me do the talking.”

“Mr. Singer,” Principal Pagett said, coming into the waiting area from his office, “good to see you again.” He glanced at Dean and then back toward Bobby questioningly. “Why don’t we all come into my office and chat.”

Bobby nodded, “Excellent idea.” He motioned for Dean and Sam to go in front of him and once they were in the office, said, “Principal Pagett, this is Dean Winchester, Sam’s older brother. I know John and I mentioned him when we met this fall and then after John’s death.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, holding out his hand toward Dean. “Pleasure to meet you, Dean. Your father and uncle spoke about your wonderful support to Sam during this very trying time for your family.” He smiled and motioned toward chairs clustered around a small coffee table. “Have a seat, please.”

Dean glanced at Bobby, surprised to hear that he had been at least a small topic of conversation, unaware that the two men had even visited Sam’s school. Briefly wondering if they had also visited his, he pushed the thought away and sat down, nodding to Sam to sit as well.

When they were all seated, Principal Pagett smiled again, “So the reason we are all here together and why I called you, Mr. Singer, is because it came to my attention that Sam skipped class this afternoon. Clearly, that’s a problem and not something we can allow.”

“Of course,” Bobby said with a nod of his head. He sensed Dean shift in his seat and discreetly put out a hand and laid it on the younger man’s arm. He glanced over at Sam, sitting on the other side of Dean with his head down, before turning his attention to the principal. “I have to say, I’m surprised to hear this. Sam loves school.”

“And he’s an excellent student,” Pagett agreed, smiling quickly at Sam. “I know there have been a lot of changes, obviously, and it’s a stressful time right now. But we also can’t allow students to skip class whenever they feel like it.”

“Of course not,” Bobby said, nodding again. “What …”

“What class did he skip?” Dean asked, breaking into the conversation and causing Bobby to tighten his grip on his arm.

Pagett shifted slightly in his chair before giving them a tight smile. “Lunch. He’s part of the 3rd lunch rotation and he went to the cafeteria with the rest of his class but then left shortly afterwards. His teacher noticed he was gone when his class returned to their classroom for dismissal and class change.”

“So …” Dean started and then glanced at Bobby as the hand tightened harder. 

Bobby glared at him for a brief moment before turning his attention back to the other man. “So, in reality, it wasn’t so much that Sam skipped a class, it’s that he skipped lunch? Did he attend his next class?”

“I was there, on time,” Sam said quietly, looking up for a second. 

“Yes, he did,” Pagett said with a nod. “Which was very good of him and what we expect. Unfortunately though, lunch is part of his previous class and he knows he is expected to stay in the cafeteria or courtyard during the entire period. The class returns together and then is dismissed at the normal class change. The 3rd rotation is the last lunch rotation. His study period is actually this period, right now, and that’s when he’s allowed library time.”

“What happened in the cafeteria?” Bobby asked. “Clearly, something must have happened if Sam went to lunch and then left shortly afterwards. Do you know where he went?”

“The library,” Sam said. “I went to the library and just read.”

Pagett nodded, “Yes, that’s right. While that may not seem like such a big deal and not something to be concerned about, we obviously can’t have students roaming the halls whenever they want, going anywhere they want, without telling anyone. His teacher was very concerned when he didn’t come back to the classroom with the rest after lunch.”

“I can certainly appreciate that,” Bobby said with a smile. “Do we know what happened in the cafeteria that caused him to leave?”

“We do, or at least have a general idea,” Pagett said slowly. “But, it was minor incident and doesn’t excuse …”

“What happened?” Dean asked, struggling to keep his voice even. He glanced at his brother who was still looking at the floor.

Pagett sighed deeply and held out his hands slightly, “Sam’s class is watching the movie Oliver Twist this week and it appears that some other boys in his class – just three of them – were acting up a bit and teasing him. The teasing may have gotten out of hand but ...”

“How out of hand? Bobby asked, interrupting. 

“It depends on who you ask … the boys say they were just playing around and having fun reenacting some of the movie they saw earlier. They said they were trying to get Sam to join in and he got upset and left.” He swayed his head slightly, “When I asked the two teachers monitoring the lunchroom at the time, they said the teasing might have been a bit over the top and more aggressive then the boys intended.”

Bobby glared at the principal, asking, “What scene were they reenacting?” He had a feeling he knew, having seen the movie several times, but wanted confirmation.

Pagett smiled, “The one where Oliver is dared by the other boys to go up and ask for more … the whole ‘Please Sir, may I have some more’ bit. From what I understand, the boys were going up to Sam with their trays and saying that line to him. They said they only did it a couple of times. The teachers both said it was more than a couple and reported that the boys also asked him if that’s how he’s fed at home but also said the boys were laughing and seemed to see the whole thing as a joke.”

“A joke?” Dean asked loudly, leaning forward in his seat. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath as he felt Bobby’s hand on his arm again. Turning to Sam, he said, “Sam, do us a favor please and go wait outside on the bench for a few minutes.” He gave his brother a small smile as their eyes met, “Go on, please.”

Sam nodded, “OK.” Standing up, he slipped out of the office, shutting the door behind him.

Dean turned his attention back to the principal. “Just so we’re all clear on this … incident,” he said in a calm voice, “let me sum it up for us and make sure we’re all on the same page.” He smiled slightly at the principal. “In Sam’s English class, Ms. Caldwell, one of your teachers, made the unfortunate decision to show a movie about an orphan who is physically and mentally abused for years to a group of children, including a child who became an orphan just last month.”

“It’s on the approved movie list,” the principal said, hiding his surprise that the boy in front of him knew his brother’s English teacher’s name. “It’s a classic and unfortunately, Ms. Caldwell is out this week unexpectedly and the class has a sub. I’m sure the sub was unaware of Sam’s situation.”

“But you certainly were and didn’t bother to tell her or veto the movie,” Dean said.

Pagett nodded, “I do agree that it was an unfortunate choice, given the circumstances.”

“So after that unfortunate choice, when three of those students decided to act out one of those traumatic scenes on that newly orphan child, including asking him if he has to beg for food at home, the lunchroom teachers – your representatives – who saw what was happening, made another unfortunate choice and decided that this teasing was somehow all just fun and games and ignored the situation and let the scene continue. When this child saw that he was going to receive no support or protection from the adults in the room, he made the decision – another unfortunate choice - to flee. He decided that skipping lunch and going hungry was a better alternative than the continued … fun and games … at the hands of three other students. He didn’t seek refugee outside; he didn’t leave school grounds … he went to the library and read for 30 minutes before going on to his next class, on time.” Dean took a deep breath, making sure his voice continued to be calm and even, “Is that a good summary of what happened to my 13 year old brother under your watch and at your school?”

Pagett shifted in his seat for a long moment before saying, “I’ve known the three other boys for more than two years now and they are good kids. I don’t think they meant any harm, it’s just a movie to them.” 

Bobby nodded, “I’m sure they are and I’m sure they had no idea how badly their game could be taken by Sam.” He glanced at Dean for a moment before turning his attention back to the principal and saying, “But given all the unfortunate choices made today, I think we can all agree that Sam’s decision to leave the cafeteria to escape these other kids was the least unfortunate and carries with it the least harm and problems.”

The principal was silent for a long moment before nodded, “Yes, I think we can agree on that point. I’m also prepared to let the matter drop entirely if you are willing to do the same and if Sam agrees not to leave the lunchroom again without permission.”

Dean looked at him for a long moment before saying, “If he does ask for permission to go to the library again during lunch, will one of your teachers give him permission?”

“Yes, I’ll pass that along. Luckily, we’re just a few days away from Christmas break and I don’t expect this problem to come up again in the new year.”

Bobby nodded, “Good.” He nodded toward Dean, “Why don’t you get Sam back in here so he can agree not to leave again.”

Standing up, Dean opened the door and motioned for Sam to come in. He winked at him, patting his back as he came into the office.

“Sam,” Pagett said, smiling, “I’ve had a good discussion with your uncle and brother and we all agree that, as long as you promise not to leave the cafeteria again without permission, we’ll let this matter go entirely.” He glanced at Dean quickly and then added, “And if you do feel the need to leave, just ask one of the teachers on duty. I’m going to tell them that you have my standing permission to go to the library during lunch, if you need to.”

Sam nodded, “Ok, I promise.”

“Good, thank you!” the principal said with another smile. He glanced between the two men, “Anything else we need to discuss?”

“I think that’s good,” Bobby said, standing up and then said, “And maybe A Christmas Carol instead for the rest of the week. It’s also by Dickens and seems more appropriate with the season and all.”

Pagett nodded, “Already suggested and taken care, Mr. Singer.” He stood up too and extended his hand, “Thanks for coming in. It was a pleasure chatting with you again.” Turning his attention to Dean, he said, “And you as well, Dean.”

Reaching out his hand, Dean shook it, resisting the urge to call the other man by his first name – Steven – according to the diplomas on his wall. He figured he was on enough thin ice with Bobby and didn’t need to pour boiling water on the spot he was standing on. “A pleasure and thank you so much.”

Walking the three of them to the door of his office, he smiled again. “Have a good night. See you tomorrow, Sam!”

Sam nodded, picking up his bookbag and coat before sliding close to his brother as they made their way out of the school.

Pulling him closer, Dean hugged him slightly, ruffling his hair. “It’s OK, Sammy.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything as they approached the Impala and Bobby’s truck.

Bobby glanced behind them at the rapidly thinning parking lot traffic, school having let out 15 minutes earlier, before turning his attention to Dean. “While that was an impressive performance, I know full well I told you to let me do the talking.”

“I couldn’t just sit there!” Dean protested. “What did you …”

“Later,” he said, holding up his hand. “We’ll talk about it when we’re back at your house.” He smiled slightly, “But I am very proud you managed to keep that temper of yours in check and just laid it out, like a well-reasoned argument.” He shook his head, “I think you were also damn lucky that he handled this situation so badly, but that’s his own fault. Blaming Sam like that … never going to fly when it was those other kids that should have been strung up by their thumbs.”

Sam blushed, “I don’t know if they were meaning to be mean. I just couldn’t take it …”

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Dean said firmly, interrupting and feeling his anger rise to the surface again. “It wasn’t your responsibility, Sam, and you weren’t totally fault here and anyone with half a brain can see that.” He glared at Bobby, “That’s why I had to …”

Holding up his hand, he said, “Dean, stop. I said we’d talk about it later.” His voice was firm as he met the younger man’s eyes for a long moment before turning his attention back to Sam and softening his voice, “Dean’s right, kid,” he said, coming closer and hugging the younger boy, “you weren’t totally at fault here. The kids were doing what kids do sometimes but the teachers should have shut it down and shut it down quickly. They didn’t and you had to defend yourself.” Pulling back slightly, he eyed Sam for a moment, “But you also should have known enough to ask before you just left.”

“I couldn’t tattle!” the younger boy protested angrily. 

Bobby shook his head, “I’m not saying that but let’s talk about it when we’re back at your place.” Noticing Dean’s still dark look, mouth open to jump in with yet another comment and primed for a fight or to defend his brother, he said firmly, “And for the third, and better be the last time, I said later, boy. Now’s not the time and certainly not the place.”

Dean frowned, “Whatever, fuck this.”

“Excuse me?”

The younger man glowered for a moment before saying finally, “Yes, sir.”

Bobby nodded before getting in his truck and waiting until Dean and Sam were in their car and had slowly pulled away. He shook his head and took several deep breaths as he pulled behind the Impala and carefully followed it back in the direction of the house, once again feeling unprepared and having no clear idea on how to straighten this situation out. He and John had talked often about how to best help each boy; Dean’s tendency to forget everything else when he perceived Sam in any sort of distress or danger even to the point of putting himself in danger, Sam’s tendency to blame himself for problems regardless of the cause and his need for control and order and normalcy, and John’s own struggles to ensure the boys had the space to both develop into the men they wanted to be, with the lives they wanted but also create a bond that would keep them safe in an increasingly dangerous world and lifestyle. They had discussed Sam’s desire for ‘normal’ and Dean’s unwavering desire to give his brother exactly that, but they also both suspected that Dean would never truly give up hunting and the conflict that might eventually cause. But, all the conversations and helpful tips from experts seemed worthless in the day to day and unique challenges of their world. Chuckling to himself, he stopped at a light just past the school and saw Sam glance back in his direction. He had always been afraid of having kids of his own, it was the private source of his biggest regret, and yet for the last 10 years or so, he had slowly allowed these two kids to take over his heart as surely as if they were his and Karen’s own. He had been deeply honest when he told John, during one of their late night talks in the final days, that he considered taking care of them, guiding them as best as he could, as safely as he could, into manhood and through life, more important than anything he had done before or would ever do again. 

Glancing behind them, Sam swallowed before looking at his brother. “Bobby seems mad,” he said quietly.

“Only at me, Sammy,” Dean said quickly. “He told me to stay quiet and let him do the talking but I didn’t – couldn’t – so he’s mad, but just at me.” He glanced at his brother and smiled, “He’s not mad at you, I promise.”

“I should have asked permission,” he said quietly.

Dean nodded, “Yeah, that would have been the smart thing to do but …” He shrugged, reaching over and rubbing his brother’s shoulder, “It’s all taken care of and you won’t just bail again, right?”

He shook his head, “Right and I’m sure they’ll leave me alone now. It’s not like they are normally a problem or have ever picked on me before.

“Good,” Dean said firmly. He sighed, “Bobby and your principal are probably both right – they probably had no idea how bad it was.” He glanced at Sam, “But if someone is giving you a hard time, you know you can – should – tell me, right? Let me handle it?”

Sam laughed, “Yes, I know.” He grinned, “I remember the looks you gave that nasty Brian Rheingold last year at the school in Little Rock. He was so unnerved, he just fell apart during the championship tournament games.”

Dean shook his head, “He was 14 and picking on you and I didn’t lay a finger on him.” The little punk had been part of the same school soccer team that Sam had been on but also two years older. And after one too many ‘accidently’ kicks, slides, and jump tackles that left one too many bruises, Dean had had enough.

He laughed again and tried to put a scary scowl on his face in imitation of his brother’s face, “Right, you just sat in the bleachers at every practice for two weeks watching him and came to all our games, staring at him the whole time.”

Nodding, he said, “I just wanted him to know that someone was keeping an eye on you … and him. So, let me know if you need my help.” He pulled into the driveway 5 minutes later, Bobby’s truck right behind them. He opened the garage with the remote and pulled inside, trying hard not to think about how mad Bobby was with him.

Getting out of his truck, Bobby followed them both into the house. They both avoided his gaze as they toed off their shoes in the mudroom and then, after moving into the house, shifted around in the open area between the living room and kitchen, unsure where to go. Bobby eyed them both for a moment before saying, “Sam, you missed lunch, right?”

The younger boy nodded, “Yes, sir.”

He nodded, “OK, then go into the kitchen and make yourself a half of sandwich. You need something before dinner. Wait for me in the kitchen, so we can talk.”

Sam glanced at his brother before nodding again and moving into the kitchen.

Meeting Dean’s eyes, Bobby motioned toward the hall and stairs, “You, upstairs to your room.” 

“This isn’t …” he started, temper flaring again for a brief moment before common sense took over and he shut his mouth, nodding silently. Turning, he walked down the hall toward the stairs, hearing Bobby close behind him.

“Where are you keeping your father’s paddle, boy?” Bobby asked, reaching out and lightly touching Dean’s arm before he started up the stairs.

He glared at him for a moment before asking, “Why?”

“Where?” he repeated firmly. “Or, if you prefer, I could always use my belt.”

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes briefly before saying quietly, “In the office desk, bottom left drawer.”

Bobby nodded, “Thank you.” Motioning toward the upstairs he said, “Go up to your room and wait for me. I’m going to talk to Sam for a bit and I want you to think about this afternoon, why I told you to let me do the talking, and why you decided not to listen to me. And, when you’re done with that, think about why you decided it was a good idea to lose your temper, be disrespectful, and swear at me in the parking lot.”

Refusing to look at him, Dean gave a half nod before turning and all but running up the stairs. He could feel tears starting to form in his eyes as he reached his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. 

Bobby turned and went back into the kitchen and found Sam carefully spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread, deliberately not looking up. “When you’re done with that, come sit down with me, Sam.” Looking around the kitchen, he was impressed with how clean it – and the rest of the house - was. A handwritten menu and the start of a grocery list were stuck on the fridge and, when he had opened one of the doors to grab a coke, he saw labeled containers stacked neatly, ready to grab.

“Yes, sir,” he said, still not looking up.

Inwardly sighing, he silently wondered if all kids knew how to make their parents – real or honorary – feel like shit and guilty when forced to apply the least amount of discipline. Over the years he had certainly barked at one or both of the boys, sent them to their room, grounded them, and even applied several hard swats to the seat of their jeans when it was really called for. Those times had all been immediate reactions to their actions or attitudes, not a deliberate conversation about cause and effect, action and punishment. 

Sam quietly walked over to the table carrying his sandwich on a paper towel and sat down next to Bobby. Glancing at the man briefly, he turned his attention back to his sandwich.

“Good?” he asked with a smile, taking a sip of his coke.

The boy nodded and then took a deep breath before saying, “I was hungry.”

“I figured as much.”

Sam silently took another bite before saying, “Is Dean in trouble?”

“He and I will talk when I’m done talking to you,” he said, sidestepping the question. “But I’m not angry or mad. I’m a little frustrated at the situation but that’s not the same.” He watched him take another bite before saying, “So why didn’t you just tell a teacher what was going on or at least ask if you could go to the library? You know those are the rules, right?”

“Yeah, I know but I didn’t want to risk it,” Sam said matter of factly, with a shrug. “If I told them and they didn’t do anything, then I just made the situation 100 times worse and I’m now a tattletale on top of a wuss!”

Biting back a comment and the desire to correct that statement, Bobby simply nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“And if they said no, than I really couldn’t go to the library without it being a lot worse because I asked, was told ‘No’ and then went anyway!” He sighed and shrugged, “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

Despite himself, Bobby laughed out loud. “Sometimes that’s life, kid.”

Sam smiled, “I am sorry, though. I really thought I could just slip away and then blend back in and no one would notice. Most of the time we don’t leave the cafeteria until the bell rings anyway but I guess with the sub, she came and got us right a few minutes early and dismissed from the classroom instead.” He shrugged, “Bad luck, that’s all.”

Bobby eyed him, “Do you honestly think that’s the explanation or excuse that’s appropriate in this situation?”

He sighed again, “No, I know.” 

“Uh huh,” the older man said. “I think to help drive home the fact that you had multiple options and still choice the wrong one, you should consider yourself grounded for the rest of the week and, come Saturday, you can work around my place all day.”

“That’s not fair! I have plans on Friday night and Saturday!” Sam blurted out before thinking and swallowing hard. “Yes, sir,” he said, trying hard not to scowl. After several long beats, he said, “I guess next time, I’ll just move to a different area.”

“Or, tell someone,” Bobby said slowly, even though he figured it was a lost cause. No kid wanted to be seen as a snitch or a crybaby or needing the teacher’s protection. “But if you don’t want to do that, moving is a good idea.” He smiled, reaching out and bumping Sam’s shoulder gently, “Are those jerks sweet on any girls in your class?”

Sam looked at him for a moment and then thought for a second before nodding, “I think one of them – Dave – likes Mary Elizabeth and she’s friends with Emma, who sort of likes me but she’s in a different class.” He blushed as he said the name ‘Emma’.

Vaguely remembering the date/not date just friends dance in October, Bobby nodded. “Then that’s your solution, Sam. Next time Dave is an assho…. jerk,” he said, quickly correctly himself. “Next time he’s a jerk to you, go move next to his wannabe girlfriend, who is friends with your wannabe girlfriend. He won’t want to look like a jerk in front of her and she’ll quickly dismiss him, especially if you start talking about Emma, like you’re interested.”

The younger boy blushed again, “Yeah because she and Emma are always whispering together in our Algebra class, which is right after English and lunch.”

“A good man knows he needs to do what his girlfriend wants, if he’s going to have a happy life,” Bobby said with a smile. 

Sam laughed, not quiet getting the joke but understanding enough. He sighed again, “Thanks Bobby.”

“Your refrigerator is stuffed full, looks like you and Dean were busy this weekend,” he said, changing subjects.

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah. Dean’s got this whole system and it’s working great. Tonight, we’re having stew, if you want to stay for dinner. We cooked it Sunday in a crockpot that we picked up at Walmart after Thanksgiving.”

“Sounds good,” Bobby said with a smile. “Tell me about Dean’s system.” He glanced at the clock, silently giving Dean another 5 minutes before he went upstairs.

Half expecting to hear Bobby on the stairs a second after he slammed the door, Dean threw himself on his bed and let the tears of utter frustration start. Curling up on his side, he buried his head in one of his pillows and tried to make as little noise as possible. How the older man possibly expected him to sit there quietly while Sam was in trouble was beyond him. There was no question, no other way to handle the situation then to get involved himself and ensure that Sam was treated fairly. His father understood that, understood Dean’s job when it came to Sam, and, honestly, wasn’t around enough to think twice about it or question it. At times it felt like the one thing he could do an even halfway decent job with and failing at that was simply unthinkable. The buried pain of missing his father who understood or, at the very least didn’t care which was basically the same, pushed out of the deep pit of his soul where it was normally buried, causing him to cry more. 

Glancing at the clock as Sam’s description of their Sunday activities wound down, Bobby nodded, “Sounds like a very good system.” He smiled and took another sip of coke as he stood up. “Do me a favor, Sam. I’m going to go talk to your brother so I need you to stay down here and watch TV. I’ll come down when you can come upstairs, but not until then. Your brother and I just need a few minutes of privacy, OK?”

Sam nodded, frowning, “Dad had the same rule when we were in trouble with him.” He glanced out the back window and sighed softly. They had gotten several inches of snow over the weekend and a strong cold wind had kicked up, leaving no place for him to go outside, which was his preferred way of dealing in the past when Dean was in trouble with their father. He glanced at the older man and said, “Can I go read in the car in the garage?” They both had used the car in the past, giving each other the illusion of privacy when they were in trouble and stuck in too small of hotel rooms.

“If you want,” he said with a nod, “but don’t turn the car on but you can sit in there and read.” Heading out of the kitchen he went first into the office to fetch the paddle before continuing upstairs. He glanced into Sam’s room for a second as he passed it and wasn’t surprised to see the room neat and the bed made. Despite his teasing comments, they had only been slightly messy in their bedroom at his house but were clearly trying to live by John’s neat, almost military rules, here. He also wasn’t too surprised to see that Sam had taken the smaller but closer to the master bedroom – Dean’s bedroom – as his own instead of the larger bedroom in front. Not bothering to knock, he quietly opened Dean’s bedroom door and felt his stomach twist slightly at the sight of his other honorary son curled up on a neatly made bed, clearly upset.

Dean jerked up, surprised to see the other man. “Sorry,” he said quickly, swiping away his tears as if that simple action could hide the fact that he had been crying. His head was pounding and his nose was stuffed up and he wanted to do nothing more than sink into the bed and disappear for a while.

Putting the paddle down on the dresser by the door, Bobby walked into the bathroom and grabbed a bunch of toilet paper from the roll, making a mental note to add tissues to the shopping list on the refrigerator. He handed it to Dean and said, “Blow your nose, kid and tell me what you’re sorry about.” He gave him a small smile, sitting down on the bed. 

He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head before blowing his nose, tossing the paper onto his nightstand.

“No, you won’t tell me; no, you don’t know what’s wrong,” Bobby asked quietly and then patted the younger man’s leg and smiling. “Or no, you can’t talk yet because your nose is still stuffed up.”

Dean smiled slightly before looking away and wiping his eyes again. “I’m sorry I was rude in the parking lot,” he said after a long moment. “I shouldn’t have swore at you and I should have stopped arguing with you in front of Sam.”

Bobby smiled, “Or you know, just stopped arguing, period.”

He laughed slight, blowing his nose again, “Yeah.” He took a deep breath and met the other man’s eyes as he swallowed. “But I won’t apologize for calmly getting involved in the discussion with the principal about Sam. I was careful, I kept my temper, I was calm, and Sam is my responsibility and I had to stand up for him. I couldn’t let that guy, regardless of his position, punish my brother for something that wasn’t totally his fault.” He shook his head, “I’m not saying Sam was totally innocent but he was being picked on and it’s my responsibility to always be in his corner and ensure he’s treated fairly.” His head was pounding and his stomach was in knots as he waited for Bobby to say something. His eyes drifted slightly to the paddle sitting on the dresser before refocusing on his honorary uncle. “Dad knew and respected that.”

The older man nodded slowly, “I appreciate that, Dean. And, I understand what you are saying. After watching you grow up for the last 10 years, I feel like I have a good handle on your sense of responsibility toward your brother.”

“It’s my job,” he said simply. “I won’t fail him; I can’t fail him.”

He smiled, patting his leg again, “I know and you won’t fail him. You are an excellent brother and have always done an amazing job.”

Dean snorted and shook his head, “No, you just don’t know all the times I’ve screwed up. Plenty of times I’ve done a horrible job and let Dad and Sam down.”

Feeling as if those two simple sentences had enough behind them to keep a therapist busy for a year, Bobby simply smiled, “Well, let’s just agree to disagree on that point. And since I’m older, for right now, we’re going to say that you’re an amazing brother. Sam knows it and your father sure as hell knew it. We’ll work on you knowing it later.”

He smiled and shrugged but didn’t say anything. 

“So while you are an amazing brother and I know you can handle anything because you are incredibly mature, when you want to be,” Bobby said calmly with another smile, “to that principal, who knows you are still in high school, he sees you as a 17 year old … not child but certainly not an adult.” He paused, letting his words sink in as Dean glanced away. “That’s why I am your legal guardian – yours and Sam’s – the courts and most adults see you, any 17 year old really, as too young and in need of some sort of adult supervision.”

Dean felt his eyes tear up and he angrily bushed them away as he shook his head. 

“I’m not saying I fully agree with them, kid,” he said quietly, moving closer. “Hell, as much as I’d rather you boys live with me, I know you need to be here, on your own, away from all the drama at my house and hunting. And, most importantly, I know I can trust you. Your father trusted you more times than I can count and I’m certainly not going to question his judgement.” He privately pushed aside the numerous times he and John had gotten into arguments on John’s judgement and treatment of his sons, deciding to focus on the positives and the last few months.

He nodded silently, brushing away more tears. “For all the times I fucked up, I do think Dad basically trusted me to do right by Sam.”

“Of course he did! And a lot more than ‘basically’,” Bobby said honestly. “But, for all of that, I have to look at the outside world, the other adults who don’t know you. That’s why I told you to let me do the talking with the principal. I was handling the situation. I could talk to him … adult to adult, not …”

“17 year old know-it-all with an attitude to some power hungry authority figure,” Dean said with a smile. “Did you notice that you were Mr. Singer and I was Dean?”

Bobby smiled, “While I wouldn’t put it that way … but yeah and yes, I did notice that. That was him trying to firmly put you in your place or at least, what he thought was your place.”

Dean shrugged, “Whatever.”

“The point I’m trying to make, is that you have to trust me and trust my judgement,” he said firmly. “I feel just as strongly about protecting both of you, doing what’s right for both of you, as you do about doing what’s right for Sam. And sometimes that means you have to let me handle things, as an adult, as your legal guardian, for at least the next six weeks and who knows how long for Sam.”

Dean looked away, swallowing and shaking his head slightly.

“What’s wrong, kid,” he asked. “Why are you shaking your head?” Leaning over, he squeezed the younger man’s shoulder, “Do you not trust me or trust my judgement?”

“No!” Dean said, turning back and then shaking his head again. “I mean, no, that’s not it. I trust your judgement; I know you love us and want what’s best … just …” He shook his head again.

“Just what?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly after a very long moment of silence and looked away. “I just can’t lose Sam. It’s my job, he’s my responsibility. Dad understood ….” He turned back to the other man, saying quietly, “He would have applauded my actions or at least expected it without comment, standing up for Sam, assuming he even found out about it.” Wiping away a few tears, he shook his head again. “He would have understood. If he were here, I wouldn’t even have to explain myself.”

Privately thinking that wasn’t true but deciding to ignore it for the moment, Bobby nodded slowly. “You’ve been dealing with a lot the last few months, lots of changes …” he said quietly. “Moving here, your dad, this house, feeling like everything is on you …”

Dean nodded, looking away.

“But I promise you, I swear to you, Dean,” Bobby said firmly, tapping the other man’s leg. “Look at me, please.” He smiled when Dean met his eyes, “Two things are never, ever going to change. I will always respect your role in Sam’s life and I will always do everything in my power to keep both of you safe. You may not like what I do to keep you safe but it will all work out in the end.”

“And that includes shutting up and letting the grown-ups talk?” he asked with a frown.

Refusing to rise to the bait or allowing a sudden flash of anger derail the conversation, Bobby chuckled. “If you want to look at it that way, boy, you certainly can.”

Dean looked away, embarrassed, before muttering, “Sorry.”

“It’s OK,” he said. “But yeah, sometimes it means sitting next to me quietly and letting me handle a situation.” He eyed him, “And if I can’t trust you to do that, you might not find yourself sitting next to me but out in the hall or not even included at all. There might be situations in the future that are with people a lot more on top of things than that principal and conversations that deal with things much more important than skipping lunch.”

Allowing his eyes to drift again to the paddle sitting on the dresser, he nodded as he looked back at the older man. “I understand and I appreciate it, Bobby … really, I do. I’ll do better next time.”

He smiled, leaning over and giving the younger man a hug. “Thank you. And, I was being totally honest in the parking lot when I said I was proud of you for keeping your temper with Pagett. You did a fantastic job and you’re right – your father would have been very proud.”

“I’m sorry I swore at you and lost my temper,” Dean said again.

Bobby nodded, “Yeah, I would say that was the most inappropriate thing you did today because that was bad judgement. The stuff with the principal is more … different expectations. Swearing and being rude though, that was, to use the phrase of this whole situation, an unfortunate choice.”

Dean smiled slightly before nodding, “Yes, sir.”

“What would your dad have done as a result of that unfortunate choice?”

He shifted slightly before saying quietly, “He would have paddled me, for sure. Being respectful to him, to each other, especially in public, was huge. No public drama, no swearing at him for sure, no calling attention to ourselves, no gossip, always well-behaved and polite so no one asked questions.”

“Well, I didn’t paddle your brother for his unfortunate choice so I shouldn’t paddle you, either,” Bobby said firmly. “But don’t expect to get off so lightly next time, understand?”

Dean smiled, “Yes, sir.”

“So, I told Sam’s he’s grounded the rest of the week and is coming to work around my place all day Saturday. I figured he would have plans …”

“He did, but that’s good and what I would have suggested,” Dean said, trying to push down the annoyance that Bobby had doled out punishment without checking with him first. “I’m sure he was annoyed.”

“Yes, but wisely kept his mouth mostly shut,” Bobby said with a smile. “But I don’t think that’s really a fitting punishment for you.”

Dean laughed and then quickly said, “Sorry. Just … my Friday night was going to be spent wrapping Christmas presents since Sam was going to be gone. Things may have gotten exciting if I also ordered a pizza for dinner instead of having leftovers. I’m thrilled you are going to put him to work though on Saturday, I’ll do presents then instead, along with all the laundry, which was my other big weekend plan.”

Bobby smiled, “Yeah, it didn’t sound like your social calendar was booked solid.” Pulling the younger man into a hug, he said, “So why don’t I just give you your one and only free pass and we’ll call it a day. I told you a couple of weeks ago that you needed to give yourself space to stomp around and act out … so let’s just say that’s what this was. It’s Christmas, after all.”

Feeling his eyes suddenly tear up again, Dean hugged him back and buried his face into the older man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Bobby. For everything.”

“Of course, you idjit.” Holding him close, Bobby allowed him to cry softly. “It’s OK, Dean,” he said quietly. “You’re good, Sam is good … it’ll get better every day.”

“Yeah,” he said after several long minutes. Pulling back, he swiped at his checks and glanced at the clock. “I need to get dinner started. Do you want to stay? We’re having stew and biscuits.”

“That sounds good, thank you,” he said. “But why don’t I send your brother up and I’ll take care of dinner. He probably wants to see you and be reassured I didn’t kill you or anything.”

Dean laughed, “Thanks, yeah.” He glanced at the paddle again and shifted slightly. “Would you have really paddled me?”

“If I had walked into that anger, refusal to listen, and that out and out defiance that you were strutting around in the parking lot of the school, hell yes, boy,” he said with a smile. “I might love you but I’m not going to allow that on my watch, either.”

He blushed, “Yes, sir.” 

Standing up, Bobby smiled, “I’ll send Sam up and start heating up dinner.”

“Thanks,” he said, standing up and hugging the older man again. “For everything.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Sam sighed dramatically Thursday night as he set the table with the taco toppings before saying, “Ray is really disappointed …”

“Don’t even start, Sam,” he said firmly as he interrupted his brother, not even bothering to look away from the ground beef he was heating up at the stove. He glanced at the timer on the oven before grabbing plates from the cabinet and looking at the table. “Looks good,” he said with a smile. “You can put the corn down on the table, this will be ready in just a minute.”

Sam sighed before giving him a small smile, “Thanks. It smells good, I’m starving. Today was some sort of cream of chicken in pasta … it was disgusting.”

He laughed leaning back on the island to wait, “You should pack your lunch, like me.”

“Too much pressure,” he said, coming into the kitchen area and leaning against his brother. 

Dean gave him a quick hug before pushing off from the island just before the timer went off. Pulling the taco shells from the oven, he said, as he piled them carefully onto a serving rack, “Pressure about what?”

“Oh, you know … everything,” he said. “What to bring, what to bring it in, do you have the right, cool thing or are you bringing weird, dorky food and then, what do you do when everyone else is going through the line and you’re just sitting there … alone.” He shrugged, “Everything.”

He glanced at him, debating what, if anything to say to that and counting himself lucky that he had avoided all that type of middle school drama, before saying, “Well, luckily, dinner is drama and pressure free. The only thing you have to decide is if you can manage to stick to three tacos or are going to make a pig out of yourself and eat four.” He bumped against the younger boy and said, “Grab the plates, squirt and put a hot pad on the table, please, for the meat.”

“So, you know, Ray is having a Christmas party at his house tomorrow night,” Sam said cautiously five minutes later as he assembled two tacos on his plate next to the pile of Mexican corn.

“What part of me telling you to not even start barely 10 minutes ago did you not understand, Sam? And, considering this is the third time you’ve brought it up to me in two days, I think it’s fair to assume I am fully aware of that fact,” he said. Looking up from his own taco, he continued, “And I think it’s also fair to assume that, since I’ve said ‘No’ and reminded you that you’re grounded three times, you will be in trouble if you bring it up again.” He took a bite of the crispy shell and slowly chewed, watching his brother. “Is there anything else you’d like to say on that subject or do you want to take an exit off this road and try another?”

“The tacos are good,” Sam said after several long beats.

Dean smiled, “Yes, they are.” He took another bite, “Do you remember that great taco stand near that shitty apartment in Albuquerque a few years ago? It was green and white and had all those awnings that looked like Mexican blankets?”

“Yeah!” he said, smiling. “Over the picnic tables out back in the courtyard. We must have eaten at that place three or four times a week! Those were amazing tacos and those crispy fried rolled things with cheese. I wonder if we could figure out how to make those?” He took another bite before saying, “It was so hot there, I remember but it was neat because all the Cottonwood trees were blooming and there was fuzz all over the place when the wind blew. We were there in like March or April through June, I think? I can’t even imagine it in July or August.”

He glanced out the window behind Sam and made a face. It had been snowing lightly on and off all day, adding to the small drifts pushed up against the house. “I wouldn’t mind some of that heat now, though.”

Turning around to look out the window at the darkness, Sam nodded, “Is it bad that I’m already tired of the cold?” They had certainly been in Sioux Falls and other similar locations in the winter. But, in the past, a pending move was always on the horizon and the hope for a southern location was always a beacon of light in the cold. 

Dean laughed, “Yeah, I sort of think so, Sammy.” Passing an empty shell from the rack to his brother, he said, “Maybe we can go some place for spring break? Would you like that?”

Looking up from his plate, he smiled, “Really? Cool! We’ve never gone anywhere for spring break.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, taking a bite. “Last year, we went some place.”

Sam frowned and flicked a piece of shredded cheese at his brother. “Hiking around the woods in the Ozarks looking for a ghost doesn’t count, Dean! And the tent Dad stuck us in smelled like mold and leaked and I was stuck in the car alone half the time, which was creepy as anything.”

He laughed, “Hey, don’t blame me. While we were there, I offered to take you to Branson one night and see Glen Campbell and you were the one you didn’t want to go.” He grinned at his brother’s expression, “Oh, don’t give me that Sammy! I know you love ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ … “Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo!” Stretching out ‘rodeo’ in an exaggerated fashion, hand to heart, he laughed as Sam began to laugh with him. “But yeah, maybe we can do a bit better this year.”

Sam grinned, “That would be great.”

Dean smiled, “We’ll plan on something for sure. Any ideas on where you’d like to go?” 

Laughing, he shook his head, “Nope but I’ll think about it and maybe we can get some travel books from the library.”

“I just really want to go,” Sam said suddenly an hour later as they sat on the sofa watching TV. “I’ve never been to a Christmas party before!”

Dean stood up suddenly and held out his hand, “Let’s go, get up. You are done for the night, Sam.”

“What?” he yelped, leaning back into the couch cushions. “That’s not fair! It’s not even 8:00! I don’t have to go upstairs until 9:00!”

He shrugged, “Let’s go. I told you to drop it and you didn’t. I’ve been more than fair on the issue of you being grounded. Didn’t I agree to you rearranging your movie with friends from Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon so you could go? Hell, I’m even picking up all of you at the movies and driving everyone home after, that’s how nice I am.”

Sam reluctantly nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, try keeping that in mind next time,” Dean said, working hard to keep his frustration out of his voice and knew he was somewhat failing. “You made a bad choice at school and there are consequences. Missing out on the opportunity to hang out in Ray’s basement, watching movies and eating pizza while his parents have a Christmas party upstairs isn’t missing a Christmas party … it’s missing basically the same thing you’ve done numerous other times.” He paused, motioning up with his hand, “So, let’s go. You’re going to bed early because clearly you are too tired to remember simple instructions.”

Sam glowered, “This is bullshit, Dean! And not fair! All I was doing was making a statement. I’m allowed to make statements.”

“Yeah, you’re free to make all the statements you want … in your room, in bed, by yourself because I don’t want to hear any more statements about Christmas parties.” He stared at his brother before adding, “So, get up right now and go upstairs or we’ll extend your grounding to Sunday.” Motioning up with his hand, he said, “The choice is yours, Sam … miss Friday night at Ray’s or miss Friday night at Ray’s and miss going out on Sunday afternoon. That’s it … two choices.” He leaned closer and said, “Seems pretty simple to me, kid but … what do I know …” 

“Fuck you!” Sam yelled, jerking up off the sofa. “This isn’t fair!”

Holding him tight by the arm, Dean swatted him twice across the butt. “Do not swear at me, Sam or this will escalate much quicker and go much worse than you want.” He swatted him again, “Do I make myself clear?”

Sam stared at him for a second before nodding.

“Good, then go upstairs to bed and do not test me.” Watching his brother stomp up the stairs, he sat back down on the couch, mentally cursing himself. He had privately disagreed with Bobby’s grounding of Sam for both days and had been happy to shift schedules so the whole weekend wasn’t ruined for his brother before the Christmas break. He thought it had been a fair compromise and Sam seemed to appreciate it when they had discussed it Wednesday morning as they drove to school. That gratitude had been quickly forgotten by that evening as his brother quickly focused on what he was missing, not what he had gained. As much as he wanted to do better than John, he found himself slipping into familiar pattern … orders, frustration, and drawing hard lines and doling out punishments when those lines were crossed. He glanced upstairs as the sounds of his brother’s stomping footsteps and an almost, but not quite, slammed door filtered down the stairs. Forcing himself to stay on the sofa, he tried to concentrate on the TV.

Shutting off the lights and unplugging the Christmas tree an hour later, he went upstairs and was surprised not to see any light coming from his brother’s bedroom across the hall from his. Slowly and quietly opening the bedroom door, he felt himself release a breath he hadn’t known he was holding at the sound of the younger boy’s breathing. Instinct, and years of listening to Sam sleep, told him that the younger boy was faking being asleep but that was fine and he was willing to play along and give them both more time and space. Quietly walking in, he slightly adjusted the covers and leaned down, kissing him gently on the forehead and whispered, “Sleep well, Sam. Love you.” Closing the door quietly, he went into his own bedroom and shut the door. Before sliding into his own bed an hour later, he opened his bedroom door, leaving it partially open.

“Dean.”

He opened his eyes saw his brother standing at the side of his bed. “What’s up, Sammy?” Peering at the alarm clock, he saw he had been asleep for almost two hours.

He shifted in the darkness before saying, “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. And annoying about the Christmas party.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

Sam sighed slightly and shifted again in the dark, moving slightly closer to the bed.

He smiled, “Do you want to get in and sleep with me tonight?” Moving the covers back, he slid over in the bed and made room. Sam had crept into his room several times the first couple of weeks but those nighttime visits had gotten more infrequent until this week. Clearly, tonight was another night the younger boy didn’t want to be alone.

“Thanks,” he whispered, moving closer and rolling onto his side as Dean settled in behind him, pulling the covers up over them. He shivered slightly and squirmed. 

“You’re freezing, dude,” Dean complained, rubbing his brother’s arms through the long sleeve t-shirt he wore. “How long were you standing there?”

“Just a minute,” he said and yawned. “But it’s cold.”

Pulling him closer, Dean sighed. “I’d kill to be in Albuquerque right now.”

Sam laughed, “It’s cold there too. Not as a bad but cold, because of the elevation.”

“Really? Huh … who knew,” he said, yawning. 

“5th Grade Geography class, while we were there,” Sam said, laughing softly. He sighed and said, “I am sorry I was a jerk to you … about everything. You’re great and I appreciate you being cool about Saturday and switching to Sunday for me.”

Dean hugged him tight, “You weren’t a jerk, you were being a bitch but I appreciate you saying that. I’m glad Sunday is going to work for you and your little friends. Now, go to sleep, you need all the beauty rest you can get if you want to have a chance with Miss Emma.” He laughed as Sam elbowed him. “Good night, Sammy.”

“Night,” he said with a smile.

OOooOOooOOoo

Sam yawned as he slid into the car a little after 7:00am on Saturday morning. “Donuts, right? You promised donuts, Dean.”

“Yes, I know,” he said in a tired voice, yawning. “Time to make the donuts!”

“No, not make,” Sam said with a small laugh, “eat … and bribe Bobby with.”

Pulling the car out of the garage, Dean laughed, “Yeah. I think you’re going to be doing enough work today, Jean Valjean, that you’ll need the sugar and a bit of Bobby’s good graces.” He smiled as Sam sighed again. It had turned out to be a good enough Friday night together and they had made Christmas cookies for the first time ever. Between that, Chinese take out for dinner, and the relief that school was out for two weeks, the younger boy didn’t seem to be too upset over the missed Movie and Pizza Basement party. 

Holding the pink and white donut box, Sam opened the door, calling, “Hey Bobby, we brought donuts!” 

He smiled, looking up from the paper at his kitchen table, “A bribe?”

Sam laughed and gave a small shrug.

“Morning,” Dean said, following his brother inside the house with a tired smile. “If I have to get up this early, the least I was going to do was treat myself to a couple of donuts.” 

“You know where the coffee is and Sam, I have juice in the fridge,” Bobby said, folding the paper. “What have you boys been up to the last couple of days? School’s out, right?”

Putting the box on the table, Sam said, “We made Christmas cookies last night.”

“I’ll bring you some when I come back to pick him up tonight,” Dean said with a smile. “They’re actually good – molasses and yes, thank god, school is out for two weeks.” He yawned again, “I am so done with that whole thing …” Pouring a cup of coffee, he topped Bobby’s off before putting the pot back on the burner and sitting down at the table. “So, anything interesting going on with you?”

Sitting down at the table and opening the box to pull out a cruller, Bobby smiled, “Rufus has been dealing with a haunted Nativity in some town in Pennsylvania but that’s about it.”

Sam bit into his jelly donut and smiled, “What was it haunted by?”

“The ghost of Christmas Future, obviously,” Dean said with a laugh. “That was the creepy one, for sure.”

Bobby laughed and shook his head, “Not sure what it was but it wasn’t really doing anything bad … just freaking people out with the figures – it was some quasi life-size thing the local bank hauls out every year – moving around on their own at night and ending up in strange locations. They thought it was kids …”

“Of course,” Dean said, biting into his own donut, “because I have to say, it would be very hard to resist putting … Joseph outside a local bar or a cow at the McDonald’s.” He grinned, thinking of the possibilities.

Sam giggled, “Or sheep in compromising positions.”

Bobby looked at him, “What?”

Dean shook his head, “Some of our neighbor’s Christmas reindeer on their lawn were repositioned to … be having sex with each other and it makes Sam laugh every time now we drive past it.”

“Hey! You laughed, too!” he protested, kicking at his brother under the table. “And you’re the one who pointed it out to me!”

He laughed and nodded, “OK, yes. It’s beyond funny and the things are now chained down I’m sure.”

Bobby laughed with them, shaking his head. “How could you not laugh?” The sound of their teasing and laughter in the house again made him smile and realize how quiet the house was when they weren’t around. It wasn’t a bad quiet, per say, but it was quiet. He glanced at the clock fifteen minutes later as half the donuts were gone. “Ready to get to work, Sam?”

The younger boy made a face and nodded, “Sure. What would you like me to do?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Standing up, he led Sam, trailed by Dean, into the library off the living room. The two of the three walls were lined with stuff bookshelves and the third wall had more bookshelves surrounding the fireplace. “Let’s start with some dusting, please.”

Sam groaned quietly. 

“Take everything off but keep the books in order. Dust the books themselves, dust and clean the shelves, and then put them back.” He nodded toward a pile of rags and dusting spray and wood cleaner. “Don’t spray the books themselves though, just wipe them down with a clean cloth, not the one you’re using for the shelves, and don’t open any of the books, especially the ones on those shelves,” he said, pointing to the ones to the left of the fireplace.

Sam nodded, sighing slightly, “OK. I can do that.”

Dean looked at the older man was he followed him back into the kitchen. “What’s in the books to the left of the fireplace? What happens if he accidently opens one?”

Bobby gave him a withering look, “Give me a bit of credit, boy. Like I’d let him handle anything really dangerous. Those books just contain some sex spells and some of the pictures and drawings leave little to the imagination.”

He laughed, privately tucking that knowledge away for future visits. “Well, he’s 13 and after years of hotel living and some of those channels, I’m not sure there’s much he hasn’t seen or heard.” 

“Let’s just pretend though,” the older man said dryly. “You want to stick around and help me out in the garage or you heading back?”

“I can help you, if you need it. Otherwise, I’ll head back to the house and wrap presents,” he shrugged. “I’m going to hit the grocery store, too, on my way home. Sam’s going to the movies with friends tomorrow and this way we won’t be so rushed.”

“Go,” Bobby said, with a smile. “Cross stuff off your list and maybe relax a bit, too. I’ll bring Sam back when he’s done, no sense you making the drive twice.”

Dean smiled, “Thanks, you should plan on staying for dinner, too, if you want. I’m going to make this cheese and broccoli soup that Sam wants to try … ” He laughed at Bobby’s expression and shrugged, “Don’t look at me. He found the recipe in some library cookbook after ordering it at a restaurant and I’ve been begging off for weeks on it. I finally caved for tonight, as a treat after being stuck here working all day.”

The older man laughed, “Well, if you ask me, eating broccoli should be classified as cruel and unusual punishment. I’ll pass, thanks though.”

“Well, don’t worry, no broccoli on the menu for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day dinners,” Dean said.   
A loud thud from the living room caused them both to turn in that direction and he took two steps closer to the room. “OK in there, Sammy?”

“Fine! Just dropped a book!” the younger boy yelled back.

Bobby grinned and nodded toward the door, “Get going and I’ll go and check on him.”

“Have fun,” Dean said with a smile. Raising his voice, he called, “Bye Sam!”

“Bye!”

OOooOOooOOoo

“What time is Bobby coming over?” Sam asked, glancing up from the last of the Christmas presents they were wrapping on the dining room table on Christmas Eve. 

Dean shrugged, “I’m not sure exactly. Probably around 4:30 or 5:00. Is your bathroom clean? You can use mine tonight and tomorrow, instead of having to sharing with him.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah and I put spare towels in the guest room and moved my toothbrush into your bathroom.”

He smiled, bumping against his brother, “You didn’t look in my closet, did you?” He had declared his closet off limits the week after Thanksgiving and had used it to stash Sam’s presents.

“No!”

“Good because you know Santa doesn’t like kids who peek,” Dean said with a laugh and then grabbed Sam, who was rolling his eyes, and tickled him. “What’s that expression for? Maybe Santa doesn’t bring presents to kids who don’t believe in him, either.”

“Stop it!” he yelled, trying to twist free with a laugh. “And I haven’t believed in Santa since I was like 6, Dean! Not since you and Dad were hunting that shapeshifter in Madison. That one who was pretending to be Santa and then breaking into houses for some reason. I think he was stealing presents or something.” Pulling free, he grinned and laughed again, “Remember that? We had a tree that year, which was great! We strung it with popcorn and those horrible paper chain things we made in school.”

Forcing himself to smile, Dean nodded, “Oh yeah. I remember that year. That tree was awesome and I think that’s the year we got Yahtzee and drove Dad crazy shaking up the dice in the red cup. I wonder what happened to that game?”

Sam shrugged, “Who knows. Dad probably accidently on purpose forgot it in one of the moves in an effort to save his own sanity.” He grinned, “We should get another one. I bet Goodwill will have one in a couple of weeks or we could just make our own with dice.”

“Sounds good,” he said, making a mental note to be on the lookout for the game to add to their small collection. Motioning to the presents sitting on the table, he said, “Why don’t you put Bobby’s presents under the tree and I’ll bring the wrapping stuff back upstairs.” Grabbing the two rolls and the bag of bows, he carried them upstairs and dropped them into a large plastic tote sitting in the open space at the top of the stairs. The real estate agent had called it a flex area when they had toured the house but they had no idea what to do with it and, as a result, it was mostly empty. Moving into his room, he sat down on his bed and laid back, arm over his eyes, trying to block out intruding thoughts. 

“The mail’s here!” Sam called up the stairs. “I’m going outside to get it!”

“OK,” Dean called back, not moving from his spot. His memories of that Christmas, of most Christmases, weren’t that good but he was determined not to spoil any of Sam’s warped memories of their family moments. The shapeshifter Santa in Madison had actually been breaking into homes to rape and murder single moms before kidnapping the kids in some twisted idea of forming his - its - own family. While he hadn’t seen their father kill the creature the week before Christmas, he had stood guard outside the barn where the kids had been stashed and heard the terrifying fight, imagining the worst, as sounds of children’s screams ripped through the night. Then, afterwards, he had helped clean up the scene and get rid of the remains with the older man. When he was being brutally honest with himself, he could admit it was a memory that no almost 11 year old should have. They had actually quickly left town that night and moved four hours away, something Sam clearly didn’t even remember. And, the only reason they stopped that close to the drama was that the long cold nights searching for the shapeshift had given Dean a bad cold that left him throwing up and with a high fever. He distinctly remembered the disgusted looks and muttered comments as his father had been forced to stop and check them into a hotel, instead of driving further away. With his oldest sick and stressing about the holiday and his youngest having visions of Christmas, John had reluctantly given in, rose to the occasion, and gotten a tree and presents – from somewhere. 

“I put Bobby’s presents under the tree,” Sam said softly. “And another Christmas card on the mantle with the others.”

Jerking up, Dean smiled, pulling himself back from dark memories. “Good job, Sammy. Thanks!”

“Thinking about Dad?” he asked, sitting down on the bed next to his brother. 

Swallowing and forcing himself to be honest, he nodded. “Yeah and past Christmases and everything. This year is really different than last year.”

“Last year …” Sam said, thinking, “we were in Kentucky, somewhere, right? I don’t think we did much.” He gave a small shrug, “I know things had been tight for a couple of months because the car needed new tires.” 

“Crappy little town outside Lexington and yeah, no tree last year but we made it work. Few things better than KFC, mashed potatoes, and biscuits,” Dean confirmed with a smile. “Panthers, I think, was the high school mascot.” He grinned, remembering a cheerleader he had quickly hooked up with, and the black cropped top, short black skirt and red micro-shorts that left little to the imagination.

Sam laughed, “Between panthers, wildcats, bulldogs, eagles, and tigers, I think that covers 90% of the various school mascots.”

“Yeah and you’re a panther this year, right?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Yeah.” Leaning into his brother, he hugged him and sighed. “Dad would have liked Christmas this year, I think. He would have loved this house and the tree and the lights. It would have been the best Christmas, ever.”

Dean hugged him back, “He would have and, yeah, it would have been the best Christmas ever.” Ruffling his brother’s hair, he added, “So we’ll just keep moving on and making sure it’s as good as possible because that’s what he would have wanted and expected of us.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

Sitting there quietly, he quickly thought about the truth … that if John was still alive and well, this year’s Christmas would have been like so many others … spent in a crappy hotel or, if they were especially lucky, in a crappy apartment and probably hunting something that wanted to kill or hurt them and others. It was being spent in their own home, with their own tree, and own presents, celebrating with friends, only because their father was gone. The thought and very mixed emotions made his throat close and tears fill his eyes.

“I wish he was here,” Sam said quietly.

“Me too,” Dean said immediately, hearing only half a lie in his voice. 

“Bobby’s here!” Sam called from the office where he was playing a computer game he had gotten from a friend. Opening the front door before the older man knocked, he grinned. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you too! And, the lights look nice,” he said, stomping the snow off his boots before stepping inside. “You boys did good.” He nodded toward his truck, “If you want to put your shoes on, you can help me unload stuff from the car. Santa clearly thinks you both still live at my house.”

Sam laughed, “I’m 13, not 3.”

He shrugged, “If you don’t want them …”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed again, “I didn’t say that but let’s go through the garage. Dean is insane about not wearing shoes in the house and getting the floors dirty.”

“Hey Bobby!” Dean said, coming into the hall from the kitchen area. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said and, unable to resist, added, “and before you say anything, I’m going in through the garage. Sam’s already told me about the shoes rule.”

Dean glared at his brother who grinned back before shrugging, “It’s just between the snow and the mud from both our shoes and the carpet …”

Bobby laughed, cutting him of, “Say no more. Come on, Sam. I’ll meet you outside and you can help me unload.”

Putting the last of the presents under the tree 20 minutes later, Sam smiled, “Looks good! Maybe we can open some tonight?” 

“Smells good, too and no presents until the morning,” Bobby said smiling and moving into the kitchen area. “What’s for dinner?”

“Lasagna,” Dean said with a shrug, “and garlic bread, of course. And then Sam and I made a chocolate pecan pie this afternoon for dessert.” He grinned as Bobby nodded, “It was easy and I figured we could split up the leftovers. I appreciate you bringing the ham for tomorrow.”

“Honey baked ham,” Sam confirmed, coming into the kitchen and leaning on the island. “The commercials make it look really good and it’s spiral sliced. Is it really a spiral? Like a slinky or something?”

Bobby shook his head, “No but that would be very cool. It just means it’s already cut and easy to pull apart but it’s not like going to fall apart and start walking down stairs.”

Sam laughed, “If it does, at least we’d know what to do with a possessed or haunted ham that suddenly starts walking down stairs …”

“Alone or in pairs,” Dean began to sing with a grin. “Everyone knows it’s Porky!”

“Fire roasted Porky! With lots of salt!” Sam agreed with a smile, laughing. “We’d need to go easy on the lighter fluid though, make sure it doesn’t ruin that special honey baked crust.”

Bobby laughed, “You two are a mess.”

Pouring a third of his fresh beer into a glass, Bobby brought it over to Dean sitting on the sofa. Sam had been sent upstairs to bed about 30 minutes earlier and he and the younger man had been sitting in the living room talking quietly. “Here you go, kid, since you’re in for the night.”

Dean looked up and grinned, taking the beer. “Dad let me officially start drinking a bit this summer. I’m glad we got to do that.” He took a sip and shrugged, “I mean, he knew it wasn’t my first beer or anything but … it was nice. We were finishing up a hunt just before Memorial Day weekend, some water wrath conjured up by an Indian curse on a small lake near Madison, and afterwards, we sat out on the dock and watched the stars and shared a beer and talked about a bunch of stuff.”

“Good memory,” Bobby said as he took a sip.

“I’ll have to find something to do like that with Sam, too.”

“But probably not after putting away a water wrath,” he said with a small smile.

Dean laughed, “I don’t know, maybe not, but I’m not sure. He says he wants normal and out of the life and I fully believe that. But then … it’s in his blood, too, and so integrated with his memories. And he’s so comfortable with it. Like tonight, making a joke about salting and burning.” He took a sip and shrugged, “We’ll see. I might toss the idea out there this summer or next summer … some simple haunting or something low key. Nothing dangerous, nothing bloody, nothing demonic.”

“Plenty of hunters do exactly that,” he said with a nod. “Your dad was kind of rare in that he could, and would, go after anything. A lot of hunters are much more specialized.”

“Yeah,” Dean said with a nod. Turning his attention back to the tree, he stared at the lights, lost in his thoughts. “Sam might like that,” he said quietly.

“And how are you doing, kid?” Bobby asked five minutes later. Pulling the younger man close, he ruffled his hair. “You need to get this cut, it’s getting shaggy.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah, I know. It’s on the list. But I’m good, getting stuff taken care of and trying to stay ahead and anticipate problems coming down the road. I got the names of a dentist and doctor from one of Sam’s friend’s mother and we both have appointments for the dentist in a couple of weeks and I managed to get an appointment the next week for the doctor, just a simple checkup, for him. It’s the day after finals and school is closed that whole day. It was a hassle last year when he wanted to play soccer and I had to scramble to find a doctor that would sign off. I’m sure he’ll want to play this year so it would be good to have someone already. I think he needs new winter boots too, so we’ll go shopping during the break and find some, hopefully catch some sales so they don’t cost too much.” Taking a sip of his beer, he said, “Oh and he brought home a note from the school about Parent Teacher Conferences mid-January.”

Bobby smiled, “I got that note from the school, too.” He glanced at Dean, “I figured we’d go together.”

He nodded, glad his involvement it wasn’t a discussion. “Do you want me to set it up or do you want to do it and just tell me when?”

“I’ll do it,” Bobby confirmed. “But how are you, you personally, doing, with the holidays and everything? Lots of memories?” 

He shrugged, “Fine, tired and glad for the two week break but school is going OK and my grades are good. We have finals when we get back and I have a paper to work on during the break but I’ve got time. It’s almost done now, actually. Sam’s got some science poster he’s working on and I told him we’d go to the library the end of the week so he could finish up. I figure while he’s working on that, I can finish my stuff, too. And I promised him we’d go to a couple of new movies out.” 

Bobby smiled, unsure if the younger man was ignoring the personal side of his question or simply unaware that what he was answering was more of a rattling off of his To Do list and not about him personally. Deciding that it was an issue that didn’t need to be pushed tonight, he continued into safe, easy territory and asked, “What are you going to go see?”

Dean grinned, “Scream and Mars Attack!.”

“Scream? The one with that creepy guy in a mask that kills people?” he asked. “What sort of movie is that for a 13 year old?”

“It’s fine,” he confirmed. “He knows it’s fake and he’s the one who has been harassing me to go. We had a long discussion about how, if we go, he’s not to tell any of his friends about it and get me in trouble with their parents.” 

“Oh sure, that’s the important thing,” Bobby said dryly, shaking his head. “What his friends’ parents think … not how you are going to scare your brother to death with a movie like that.”

“It’s fine,” Dean said again, trying hard not to grin. “We’ve always watched horror movies together. We saw The Exorcist like 5 years ago and he wasn’t too scared. Aliens sort of scared him but he was OK after we looked at some of Dad’s weapons and decided that we could take it out if we needed to.” He gave a small chuckle, “We decided that the Alien was sort of like a Wendigo and a flare gun plus a machete would do the trick, just have to make sure the acid blood doesn’t get on you.”

Bobby opened his mouth and then slowly shut it as the younger man gave him another shrug and grin. Finishing his beer, he just shook his head.

OOooOOooOOoo

Slowly opening his eyes, Dean smiled at his brother who was still fast asleep in bed next to him. He dimly remembered the younger boy coming into the room in the middle of the night and sliding into bed. He hadn’t said anything to call attention to the fact, just made sure they were both fully covered with the blankets and went back to sleep. Sliding out of bed, he quickly got dressed and then, grinning, jerked the covers off his brother, saying loudly, “Up and at ‘em!”

Curling up against the cold, the younger boy groaned, “Dean!”

Bending down, he grabbed one of his brother’s bare feet and tickled it, “Let’s go. I can smell coffee so Bobby is up already, and time for presents!”

He sat up and yawned, glancing at the clock and then smiled. “Food and then presents or presents and then food?”

Dean laughed, pulling him out of bed, “I think even you are coordinated enough to eat while we open presents.” He ruffled his hair, “Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

“At least I’m coordinated enough to eat with my mouth closed,” he countered with a grin and then hugged his brother. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Bobby said, handing Dean a cup of coffee as he came into the kitchen. “Your brother up, too?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, he’s getting dressed.” Sipping at the coffee, he said, “How did you sleep? You’re the first person to sleep on that bed, you know. Our first ever guest, actually.” 

The other man laughed, “It was comfortable and good water pressure.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he said, “Breakfast or presents first? I made Karen’s banana bread … haven’t made that in years and it’s fantastic.”

He grinned, “Great! I vote for cutting into that and we’ll eat while we open presents.” Glancing over as Sam came into the kitchen, he asked, “Banana bread while we open presents?”

Sam smiled and nodded. 

Opening the last of his presents, Dean grinned at the electric blanket. “This is perfect, Sam! Thank you! Just what I need for these cold nights.” He put it down next to several new movies, books, a set of flannel sheets, and two sweaters.

Sam laughed, “I thought you’d like it and the blue matches your room.”

Bobby smiled, “And it’s not even gotten cold yet, just wait until January and February. I figured the flannel sheets would be perfect for both of your beds. Winter isn’t the time for smooth cotton.” He laughed at both of their expressions, “Just be glad I’m not dragging you boys out to go hunting in the cold. When I was a kid, my father would have me out hunting with him every winter.”

“No thank you!” Sam said quickly. “I’ve spent enough cold nights in the car and in leaky tents to last me a lifetime.” Moving over to where Bobby sat on the couch, he patted the emergency blanket he had picked out as a gift, “At least you’ll be warm and safe with this.”

“I will!” he agreed, picking up the package and reading it. “It looks great and a real lifesaver. I could have used this a few years ago when I was stuck in the middle of the woods trying to track down a particularly nasty kitsune and my car ended up in a ditch. Spent weeks out there and never could find it.” He patted the new bag, some special BBQ sauce, seasoning salt set, knife sharpening stone, and two new books sitting next to him, “And these are great, too. Thank you.”

Sam grinned, “We thought you’d like a new bag and yours is getting a bit …”

“It’s well loved,” Bobby said, interrupting. “That bag and I have seen a lot together but yeah, it’s time to let it retire in peace.” He laughed, pulling Sam close, “Thank you. Do you like your games?”

“They’re perfect!” he said, nodding. “Ray let me borrow his Civilization game and Civilization II is much better.”

Bobby smiled, “Good! I thought you’d like them.” In reality, he had no idea what he had bought and when Dean suggested computer games, he had to even clarify where you bought those. Luckily, the guy at the store had been helpful and he had settled on two where the boxes didn’t look particularly violent or bloody.

“Cool,” Dean said, “maybe you can load them and show me and Bobby how you play. I got sucked into that stupid Civilization game you had borrowed.” He turned to the older man and said, “You pick a historical character and then … colonize the world and go to battle with other tribes and whatnot. It’s …” He shook his head and laughed, “weirdly engrossing.” Standing up, he picked up his coffee cup, “More coffee? I’m going to have more banana bread because that was fantastic.”

“Please,” Bobby said, holding up his cup. “While you do that, that I’ll start cleaning up this mess.” The living room was strewn with wrapping paper, tissue paper, and bows and the very normal, very homey sight made him smile. Picking up the three stockings, he hung them back on the fireplace mantel. 

“I’m going into the office,” Sam announced, standing up with his two games. “I’ll let you know when it’s loaded so you can come watch, OK?”

“Sounds good, kid,” Bobby said. Going into the kitchen, he grabbed a trash bag from under the sink. “I have to admit, I’m kind of curious about those things,” he said quickly, smiling at Dean. “The guy at the story said they were popular titles and swore they weren’t too violent.”

He laughed, “It’s cool and yeah, good choices.” Taking a bit of bread, he grinned and sighed, “Good Christmas morning. It’s what I always wanted for him. It’s what he deserves, like every other kid.”

“It’s what you both deserve,” Bobby said firmly and then shook his head as Dean shrugged. “Don’t be giving me that, boy. You’re not that much older, despite what you think.”

He smiled, “Whatever. It’s going to be a good day.” He smiled, “Want to watch a movie after we look at Sam’s game?” Sam had bought three of their favorites for him and it seemed like a good way to spend the morning. “Alien, The Great Escape, or Raiders?” 

The older man smiled. “Can’t go wrong with Raiders and I’m still not sure how I feel about your brother watching Alien … or Aliens, for that matter.”

“In space, no one can hear you scream,” he said with a smile. 

“Idjit.”

“Wow! Come look at this!” Sam called from the front of the house.

Dean grinned and motioned with is hand, “Let’s go watch him conquer the world.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Pulling into the library parking lot two days later, Dean glanced at his brother. “So, I figure we’ll spend a couple of hours here, go grab lunch, and then the 3:00 movie?”

Sam grinned, “I’ve heard it’s great and a lot of fun! Ray’s older brothers went to see it and told him all about it! They’re home from college and took Justin, too but wouldn’t take him. He’s so jealous I get to go.”

“Dude!” Dean yelped loudly, “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to tell anyone. It’s rated R and I don’t need parents …”

Sam shook his head, “It’s OK. Ray knows about it because of his brothers and I swore him to secrecy.” He grinned, “He thinks you are way cooler than his lame ass brothers who don’t do anything with him. He’s jealous about that, too.”

Despite his annoyance, Dean smiled. “Well, as much as I like Ray, he’s no where near as cool as you or as much fun to do stuff with.” He vaguely knew Justin, one of Ray’s older brothers who was in his grade and had always, privately, thought the guy was a bully. It didn’t surprise him that he couldn’t be bothered to do anything with his perfectly nice younger brother. Nodding at the just opening library, he said, “Ready? Got your stuff?”

Picking up his book back from car footwell, he nodded, “I’m good.”

Grabbing his own backpack from the back seat, Dean followed him into the library. He nodded in the direction of the empty tables. “I’ll go grab one, so just look for my stuff and you can sit with me.” He waited until Sam nodded before heading toward the back. Dumping his bag on the table to claim it, he pulled out a notebook with his needed references and headed in the direction of the computers. He couldn’t resist a quick glance into the stacks where Sam was to assure himself that the younger boy was fine and where he was supposed to be. Years of having that drilled into him by their father made that a very hard habit to break. 

“Hey Dean!”

He jerked his head up at the sound of his name ten minutes later and then smiled. “Hi Jen, how are you?” Cringing at the lameness, he tried again. “Glad to see I’m not the only one still working on Mr. MacIntyre’s paper.”

She smiled at him, moving closer and leaning against the bookshelf next to him. Leaning in close, she whispered, “Don’t tell anyone but I’ve barely started.”

“Oh, I know,” he said. “I’ve got like the title page done and that’s about it.” The words came out in a smooth lie but there was no way was he going to admit that he was almost done with the paper and just had to type it up and double check a few references.

Jen grinned, moving slightly closer. “I’m so surprised to hear that. You always seem so on top of things in class and always know the right answer when Mr. Mac calls on you. I figured you would have been done already.”

“No,” he said easily, shaking his head. “Still plugging away and taking advantage of the break.” He grinned, asking, “Did you have a nice Christmas?”

She shrugged, “It was fine. My parents are divorced so I did Christmas at my Dad’s last weekend and then Christmas morning with my mom and her new boyfriend at our house. They left to go skiing in Jackson Hole yesterday, so I have the house to myself through the weekend.” Reaching out, she placed a hand on his arm, “Maybe you can come over and study tomorrow? We can work on our papers together. Econ has me feeling like I’m drowning and you seem to really get it.” She leaned closer and smiled.

Dean grinned back, feeling something stirring inside of him that had been dormmate for months. He and Jen had flirted on and off the first month of school. They were in the same homeroom and Economics class later in the afternoon. She had invited him to hang out with her and friends several times but any thought of doing that had come to a screeching halt with John’s news. Now though, it seemed like she still remembered their earlier sparks. “I’d like that,” he said slowly.

She grinned, saying. “Good. Got some paper? Let me give you my address. Maybe around 5:00 and we’ll … study and work on papers and then maybe order pizza?” Hand still resting on his arm, she said softly, “I was really sorry to hear about your dad. I’m sure it's been a rough couple of months and I didn’t want to push or anything but seeing you here … I figured I’d take a chance.”

Swallowing, he nodded, “Thanks. Tomorrow sounds perfect and a lot of fun. I’m glad you took a chance.” Holding out his notebook and pen, he grinned as she jotted down her address. 

“It’s just off Southeastern, on the other side of 229 and right near Pasley Park. Do you know where that is?”

He nodded, “I can find it, no problem.”

“Good,” she said, smiling and rested her hand on his chest briefly. “See you tomorrow, Dean.”

“See you, Jen,” he said with a grin. Taking several deep breaths to calm his heart, he grabbed his books and made his way back to the table.

“What are you grinning about?” Sam asked as his brother sat down.

“You are eating leftover lasagna on your own tomorrow night, Sammy boy,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got a study date.”

Sam laughed, “Yeah … studying, I’m sure.”

He held his hand to his chest, “You wound my honor! Here I am, trying to live by your example and you doubt me!” He laughed at Sam’s expression and grinned. “Whatever, she’s cute and friendly and her parents, well … mom and mom’s boyfriend are away and we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

Sam grinned and shook his head before turning back to his notebook and the book in front of him.

OOooOOooOOoo

Glancing at the clock, Dean leaned over the back of the couch to look at his brother. “OK, I’m heading out. You good? Remember the house rules? Stay home, don’t answer the door, call me immediately if there’s a problem.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah. I’m going to read and play on the computer and finish up my science poster.”

“Good. I already wrapped a slice of lasagna for you in the fridge. All you have to do is put it on the toaster oven tray and heat it up at 375 for about 20 minutes.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes, amazingly, I know how to heat up food. Do you think I just starved or ate cold cereal while you and Dad were off at night?”

Reaching down, Dean ruffled his hair and then laughed as Sam batted his hand away. “Smartass. Just don’t burn down the house while I’m out and we’ll call it a win.” He smiled, “Have fun, Sammy. I’ll be home by 10:00 and I’ve got my cell phone so if you need anything, just call me.”

Sam sighed, “Not a kid, Dean.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” he said, holding up his hands with a smile. Grabbing his backpack from the mud room, he got into the car. Quickly pulling out of the garage, he smiled to himself, feeling that familiar buzz of excitement and anticipation from the idea of a date and realizing how long it had been since he had felt that. 

Grabbing a bag of chips from the kitchen, Sam went into the office and booted up his computer game as he dialed the phone. “Hey Jason,” he said as his friend answered. “How far did you get in Red Alert today?” He grinned, eating a chip, and listened to his friend discuss his strategy for world domination. 

“So, do you want to work on papers together or do something else?” Jen asked as they sat down on the sofa in the family room. She had put out snacks and pour them each a coke. “Sorry,” she said giving an embarrassed shrug. “My mom’s been on the wagon for a couple of years and it’s strictly a dry house now.”

He grinned, taking a sip of his coke before putting it down on the coffee table. “I’ll bring the refreshments next time, if you want.” 

“So, you’re already assuming there will be a next time?”

He chuckled lightly, “I’m an optimist.” 

Leaning in, she kissed him lightly, “Well, Mr. Optimist … since we’re supposed to be studying. What’s your paper about?”

He laughed, “Titillating stuff … welfare reform, the cycle of poverty, and how that’s supposed to be fixed by Clinton’s new Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Act that passed a few months ago.” His smile widened, “Personally, I can’t imagine a more exciting discussion.” Flopping his head to the side so that it rested on the back of the sofa, he gave a fake snore and grinned as she giggled. 

“Well, mine is on the rise of foreign direct investment … not exactly exciting either,” she said with a smile. Moving closer, she said, “Remember that book ... Rising Sun? They made it into a movie with Sean Connery and Wesley Snipes. Sort of about that.” She moved her hand to his leg and grinned. “Maybe we can get something else rising and more titillating?”

He smiled, “Got to love Sean Connery.” Leaning in, he kissed her and gently pushed her back into the sofa.

Jen giggled again, leaning back and letting him kiss along her neck and throat. “He doesn’t have anything on you,” she said, moving slightly and kissing him back. Resting her hand on his chest, she asked, “Oh, what’s that?” Moving her hand slightly, she felt the outlines of the metal amulet underneath his sweater. 

Glancing down at her hand, he smiled slightly and shook his head, “Oh, just something my brother gave me for Christmas a few years go.”

“Can I see?” she asked, feeling it again. “What is it? A bull’s head?”

“Later,” Dean said, kissing her again and knowing he had no intention of going into more details. 

She laughed and let her hand drop to his waistband. “Promises, promises.” 

“Perfect,” he said several minutes later as he broke off their kiss and slowly pushed his hand under her sweater, cupping one bare breast. He grinned as their eyes meet and she blushed as his thumb gently circled one nipple. Driving over, he had promised himself that he wouldn’t actually have sex with her. It was too complicated and stuck in the same school for another 6 months, the risks were too high for her to assume the relationship was something it wasn’t. It had been much easier when he knew they would be leaving quickly, his escape route already clear, even if the exact timing was up in the air. But, he thought, moving in closer, they could still have fun. And, he might even come across as a gentleman for showing restraint.

“Not too small?” she asked quietly.

“Perfect,” he repeated, kissing her deeply.

Moving her hand back to his jean’s waistband and quickly starting to work down the zipper. “Talk about perfect,” she said, grinning as she stroked him through the thin cotton of his boxers.

He groaned, leaning closer, and trying hard to remember his promise and how much he didn’t need more complications in his life right now.

Across town, Sam sighed as his last tank division was taken out by the Soviets. “Crap, man,” he said into the phone, “they got me again!”

Jason laughed, “I told you … you have to buy more armor or you’re never going to be able to withstand that assault and protect Paris.” He paused for a moment listening to a distant voice and then said, “Sorry, I got to go. Dinner’s almost ready. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye!” Sam said, disconnecting the phone and glancing at the clock. It was almost 7:00 and despite eating the bag of chips, he was still hungry. Moving into the kitchen, the dark windows in the dining area and living room suddenly seemed very exposed and a bit creepy. He quickly drew the curtains and plugged the Christmas tree lights in and then, a moment later, turned the TV on. Grabbing the covered food from the refrigerator, he quickly turned on the toaster oven and put in the lasagna. He jumped as the kitchen phone rang loudly next to him. Picking it up, he said, “Hello!” And heard only silence on the other end. 

The TV was on with some college football game but it suddenly went silent for a long moment before coming back on to a loud local car commercial.

Sam laughed slightly as he jumped again at the sudden stillness and then blaring noise. Moving into the living room, he lowered the volume on the TV. He had stayed by himself plenty of times but that was usually in hotels. This was the first time he had been alone in the house and it suddenly felt very large. He yelped as the phone rang again. Staring at it as it rang two more times, he finally picked up the new cordless phone Bobby had given them for Christmas. “Hello?” he asked cautiously and then jumped as a harsh static noise came over the line.

“Sam?”

“Bobby!” he all but yelled into the line.

“Jesus, kid,” the older man complained. “I’m old but I’m not deaf.”

“Sorry,” he said, feeling himself suddenly relax. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I was wondering if you boys were home. I tried calling a minute ago but the line didn’t go through.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I answered but no one was there. I’m here but Dean is out … at some girl’s house. They are working on … papers together.” He laughed and grinned as the other man laughed.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what they’re doing but good for him. I’m glad he’s getting out with some friends. So, you’re home alone?” he asked.

Sam sighed, “I’m not a kid, Bobby. I’ve stayed by myself plenty of times. Plus, Dean said he’d be home by 10:00.” He glanced at the timer on the stove and said, “I’m heating up dinner right now and was just going to finish up my science poster and watch TV.”

Bobby was silent for a minute, “Do you want some company? I’d be happy to come over.”

He shook his head, “No, but thank you. I’m good. Dinner, homework, TV … I’m all set!”

“Ok but if you change your mind … just call and I can be there in 20 minutes.”

Disconnecting the phone a minute later, after promising to have Dean call when he got home, Sam glanced at the timer again. He jumped as something brushed against the covered living room windows and seemed to move across the back of the house. The patio door leading out to the screened in porch was locked, he knew, but his heart froze as the curtain covering the door seemed to move slightly and another rustling noise came from the patio doors. He jumped as the phone rang again. Snatching up the remote, he muted the tv and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Someone giggled on the other end of the line before quickly hanging up. 

Sam swallowed, staring at the phone in his hand and quickly dialed *69. His heart sank as the recorded voice told him the number was unavailable. He jumped as a creak came from upstairs, was silent for a moment and then came again, slightly louder and longer lasting. Glancing at the ceiling, he swallowed hard as a small thud came from directly over his head. Still carrying the cordless phone, he quietly crept toward the stairs, peering up the stairway, trying hard to see into the darkness. 

Another rustle from the back of the house caused him to spin around with a half scream, squeezing the phone hard in his hand before dropping it on the kitchen island. Running into the kitchen, he grabbed a large container of salt from the pantry and poured a line in front of the curtain covering the patio door. He screamed as the phone rang again and he dropped the container of salt, spilling it all over the floor. “Hello?” he asked in a shaking voice.

The line was silent for a long moment before someone giggled again and hung up.

Not bothering to *69 the line again, he ran for the basement. Throwing open the door, he bolted down the stairs, almost slipping on the bare wood treads. The basement was finished but unfurnished and he ran through the large room to the back utility room they were using for storage. With shaking hands, he quickly turned the combination lock and threw open the lock they had put up their first week in the house. Quickly opening the door, he grabbed the phone and slammed the door shut behind him and threw the interior lock, locking himself in. The metal shelves inside had a small collection of various guns, knives, and other weapons and talismans cleaned out from the Impala’s truck. Bobby had kept most but Dean had refused to leave the house completely unguarded and Sam was thankful for his brother’s foresight. Grabbing another container of salt, he carefully poured a line across the doorway before grabbing a shotgun and sitting down in the middle of the floor and the protection circle painted there. Pressing the phone’s call button, he felt his stomach sink as he saw the cordless signal couldn’t penetrate the small room. He took several deep breaths, ears straining to hear any sounds from beyond the door. 

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, jerking his head up as they both heard a car pull into the driveway. Standing up, he quickly buttoned his jeans as he looked down at her. A second later, as the sound of a car door closing could be heard, he grabbed her sweater and thrust it in her direction, praying it wasn’t her mother.

“I don’t know,” she said, quickly getting off the sofa and grabbing her sweater he was holding in her direction and rapidly put it on. “My mom and Andrew shouldn’t be back for a couple of days.”

“Well, someone’s here,” he said, grabbing for books and throwing them open on the coffee table and flipping on lights and the TV.

“Jenny!” a woman’s voice called as the front door opened. 

Jen made a face, “It’s my Aunt Christy.”

Feeling relieved, Dean gave her a small smile. “Good thing we were just studying and talking about our econ papers,” he said with a grin.

“Back here, Aunt Christy!” Jen called, walking in the direction of the front door and her aunt.

Dean could hear low exchanged words for a few moments before an older woman appeared in the family room, trailed by her niece. He smiled and took several steps forward, holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Dean Winchester. I’m a friend of Jen’s – we’re in the same Economics class over at Lincoln.”

She smiled tightly at him, “I’m Jenny’s aunt, Mrs. Tomson.” Glancing at her niece for a moment, she turned her attention back to Dean. “While it’s very nice to meet you, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Jenny knows she’s not allowed to have boys over while her mother is gone.”

“Of course!” Dean said, smiling slightly. “We were basically done anyway. We have big papers due right after the break and Jen was helping me better understand a few theories that I was trying to incorporate into my paper.”

Mrs. Tomson smiled tightly at him, “I’m sure.” Motioning toward the hall and front door, she said, “Let me walk you out, Dean.”

Turning to Jen, he said, “Thanks again for your help. I’ll see you in school.”

“Good night,” she said and then, as her aunt started up the hall, made a face and shrug and whispered, “Sorry.”

He grinned and allowed himself to be escorted out the door. “Have a good night and a wonderful new year,” he said as the older woman gave him another tight smile before shutting the door in his face.

Pulling into the garage 20 minutes later, Dean opened the house door, “Sammy! I’m home! Do you want to go get …” The words died in his throat as the smell of burning lasagna came from the kitchen. Hurrying inside, he called, “Sam!” Quickly shutting off the toaster oven and beeping timer, he yelled again, “Sammy!” His heart froze and his stomach flipped as he saw the TV on but muted and the spilled salt at the end of a salt line by the door. “Sam! Sammy!” he yelled again. Ripping open the curtains, he saw the locks still secure from the inside and no sign of sulfur by the doors or kitchen windows. He jerked the throw rug by the door back and studied the warding symbol there, relieved to see it seemed unbroken. Starting toward the upstairs, he saw the basement door open and froze. Quickly going back into the kitchen, he pulled open a bottom drawer and, reaching behind a pile of grocery bags, pulled out a small gun and then a silver knife mixed in with the other knives in the block on the counter. Tucking the knife into his belt, he cocked the gun and slowly approached the basement stairs. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled, barreling up from the basement and running into his brother.

“Fuck! Sammy!” Dean said, quickly fingering the safety of his gun and pulling his brother close as he laid the gun on the hall table. “God, Sam! What happened? Where were you?” Peering at his brother for a moment he saw the younger boy was pale and shaking slightly. “What’s going on?”

“Something was trying to get in the house! Or is in the house already!” Sam said anxiously. “It was moving around outside and I heard a thud and creaks from upstairs and I was getting all these weird phone calls and giggling when I answered and the number was blocked and then another noise came from upstairs and then I ran to the basement because I knew we had weapons down there and ….”

Forcing himself to take several deep breaths, Dean nodded, holding up his hand. “OK, so take a deep breath and tell me again what’s going on, slowly and maybe with some punctuation in there somewhere.”

“No!” Sam screeched. “I’m telling you, something is in the house! I heard it upstairs and it was outside trying to get in.”

“OK!” he said, trying to stay calm. “Deep breaths, I’m here and it’s OK.” Picking up his gun, he said, “Why don’t you go wait in the car, then. It’s warded and you’ll be safe while I go and …”

“No!” he yelled again, clutching at his brother. “You can’t go hunting alone! It’s too dangerous! What if something happens to you! I can’t lose you, too! Please, I’m telling you; you have to believe me! Something is in the house!”

“Sammy,” Dean said, and then stopped as the phone rang again.

“See!” he yelled. “I told you!”

Walking them both to the kitchen, he grabbed the phone. “Hello?” He could hear something – someone breathing on the other line and then, realizing it was a Saturday night and remembering Sam’s giggling comment, took a chance. “I’m sick of the prank calls, kid. Put your parents on the phone right now or I’ll call the police,” he said in a hard, firm voice.

“Sorry,” a very young and female sounding voice said over the phone after several long seconds. “Is Sam there?”

“We’re busy,” he said firmly. “Call tomorrow and next time, say ‘Hello’ when I answer and I’ll let you speak with Sam.”

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly and then hung up.

Looking at his brother while he hung up, he gave him a small smile. “Seems like you have a shy, female admirer or maybe several of them, if there’s a slumber party going on.” 

Sam blushed, “Oh.” He spun around as something brushed up against the patio windows at the back of the house and said, “See! That! I told you! Something is outside!”

Forcing himself not to let his brother’s panic infect him, Dean peeled his brother’s hand off his arm. “Let me go look, Sammy,” he said in a calm voice.

“There!” Sam said again as the noise came again from the corner of the house.

“OK, let me go look,” he repeated. Picking up the gun from the kitchen counter, he motioned for Sam to stay where he was and clicked off the safety. The patio door curtains were open and he flipped on the backyard lights. Peering into the darkness for a long moment, he undid the lock and opened the door.

“Dean! No!”

Turning, he said, “Chill, Sam. It’s fine. I just need a better look.” Stepping out onto the screened porch, he saw the screened door was unlatched and swinging open slightly in the wind. He yelped as a bat swooped down from the ceiling near him before settling on one of the upper edges of the porch.

Inside, Sam yelled, “Dean!”

“It’s OK, Sam, come on out,” Dean said, putting his gun down on the wrought iron table and opening the screen door wider. “It’s a just bat that got trapped in the porch.”

Slowly coming out on the porch, he slid the patio door shut behind him at Dean’s nod toward it.

“We don’t want it getting in the house, for sure,” he said, giving his brother a smile. “Didn’t you come out here this morning to bang the dried mud off your boots?” When his brother nodded, he said, “I’m betting you forgot to latch the screened porch and left it open.”

Sam thought for a moment before shrugging, “Maybe.”

“This guy is out of hibernation for some reason and came in. That’s it. Probably saw the light through the curtains and got confused.”

He nodded slowly, “Yeah. And brushed against the door and I heard that.” He blushed, “But I heard stuff at the other windows, too.”

Dean shrugged, “The wind maybe?” He nodded toward the back yard, “I see a few small limbs that are down or maybe this guy has friends that all woke up and are all looking for someplace warm and safe now.” Walking down the short flight of steps, he peered at the snowbanks under the windows for a long moment before saying, “I don’t see any marks, any tracks, Sammy.”

“Oh,” he said in a quiet voice. “It was probably the wind upstairs, too.”

Dean nodded, coming back onto the porch. Pulling one of the patio chairs over, he propped the door open for the bat to escape and picked up his gun, making sure the safety was retriggered. “Let’s go upstairs and make sure, OK?”

Sam nodded silently.

“Hey, it’s OK,” he said, pulling his brother into a quick hug as they walked back into the living room. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Locking the door again, he quickly drew the curtains back over the glass. He smiled and gently bumped his brother. “Seriously Sammy, it’s OK.”

“I feel like an idiot!” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I was so sure …” He looked down at the now scattered salt line and spilled container, “I couldn’t even do that.”

“Stop it, Sam,” Dean said firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You got the salt, you blocked the door, which was great. And, more importantly …”

Sam shook his head again, “No, I didn’t do anything right.”

Dean ignored him, “More importantly, you got some place safe. The storage room was perfect. The door and walls are coated in salt thanks to that wash you helped me put on, there are no windows, you had weapons and you were safe. Everything else, we could deal with.” 

“Dad would be so mad at me, so ashamed of me,” he whispered.

“No, he wouldn’t be,” Dean said firmly, hugging him. “Trust me, Sammy. He would have been proud, I promise you. He would have been proud to know that you didn’t panic, you didn’t go running upstairs to hide under your bed like some scared little kid; you went to the most secure place in the house and waited until you had back-up. Then, you came out as soon as you heard me so we could fight together.” He smiled, bumping at him, “I know I can always trust you to watch my back.” Moving them toward the sofa, he sat them both down, pulling his brother close. Ruffling his hair, he said, “Trust me, Sammy. I know what pissed off Dad much more then you. He wouldn’t have been mad, at all. He would have been proud at how you took what he taught us and how you handled the situation.”

“Maybe,” he said quietly.

“Trust me,” Dean repeated firmly. Sitting there quietly, he tried not to dwell on how mad their father would have been at him for putting Sam in the situation, even if the situation was all in the younger boy’s head, in the first place. Their father had always taken a very dim view of Dean leaving Sam alone for too long, especially at night. He knew it happened, knew he couldn’t do much about it happening, and knew that Dean had a social life, but also didn’t hesitate to rain down hell if something went wrong on Dean’s watch. This would have counted as all kinds of wrong, on so many levels.

Sam sighed softly, leaning into his brother. “You’re home early,” he said finally.

He laughed, ruffling his brother’s hair again, “Dude, her aunt almost walked in on us. Luckily, we heard her car drive up.”

Sam laughed, sitting up and looking at him with a grin. “Cock blocked!”

“Sam! Where did you hear that?” Dean asked, surprised, and shaking his head. “Don’t be vulgar.”

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug. “Justin, Ray’s brother, said it talking to some of his friends about some girl in your class when I was over at their house a couple of weeks ago.”

“Justin’s an ass and a bully and I don’t want you saying stuff like that,” he said, suddenly feeling very old. “Dad would have had a fit and I don’t like it either. It’s rude and disrespectful.” Pulling him close again, he tickled his sides, “Plus, you’re much better than Justin and more mature. No need to sink all the way down to his level.” He knew their father had discussed sex with his brother, the idea of respect and consent, and how to be a gentleman and all that but he wondered if he should add another discussion to his ongoing To Do list.

Sam laughed, twisting away from the tickling. “Stop it, Dean! I said I was sorry!” He yelped, eyes looking toward the ceiling as they both heard a small thud from upstairs. “Dean!”

Narrowing his eyes, he looked up at the ceiling. “Stay here, Sam. I’ll go check it out.” Logically, he knew it was nothing. The house was well warded and protected. And, just as importantly, it wasn’t on anything’s radar. They had never hunted and returned to this house; John had never lived here … it should be a quiet sanctuary. He stood up and grabbed his gun, clicking off the safety. “Stay here, Sam.”

“No, I’m going with you,” he said, voice quivering slightly. “I’ll watch your back.”

“OK,” he said, pulling the silver knife free from his belt. “Here you go, use this.” Flipping on the hall light and then the stairway light, he peered up toward the second floor landing. Not hearing or seeing anything, he slowly climbed the steps, keeping his back to the wall and splitting his attention between his brother and the second floor. “We were in the living room so the noise came from my room, right?”

“Why is it so cold up here,” Sam whispered. “A ghost maybe?”

Dean sighed, remembering getting dressed before his date, “No, I think I know what it is.” Moving more quickly, he went into the master bedroom and then into the bathroom and saw the partially opened window. 

“Why did you have the window open? It’s freezing outside,” Sam asked. “That’s stupid.”

“I thought I closed it after my shower but I guess not,” he said with a shrug. His bathroom didn’t have a fan and he often cracked the window slightly to let out the steam. A breeze came through the window, blowing into the bathroom and making both the closet door at the far end of the room and the bathroom door bang softly. Closing and locking the window, he grinned. “Mystery solved.”

“Sorry,” Sam said again, quietly.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Sammy,” he said firmly. “I told you, you did nothing wrong at all.”

“You’re not going to tell Bobby, are you?”

Dean smiled, “God no! Like when Dad was away, what happens between us, stays between us.” He bumped against his brother as the younger boy smiled. “Plus, he’d give me hell and totally blame me for taking you to go see Scream, when we both know that wasn’t the problem. Was it?” 

“No way!” Sam protested quickly and with a bit too much enthusiasm. “That was fake, I know that. Monsters are real …”

“Right, exactly. So, let’s clean up, lock the storage door back up, and maybe go to Dairy Queen? They’re open until midnight and I know I could use something good.” 

“Oh, yeah. A Peanut Buster Parfit!” 

Four hours later, Dean sleepily moved over in his bed to make room for Sam to join him once again. Tugging the blankets back over them, he said, “Everything OK, Sammy?”

The younger boy nodded, “Yeah … just …”

“It’s OK,” he said evenly, rolling onto his side and pulling him close. “You’re good, nothing is wrong.”

OOooOOooOOoo


	5. Chapter 5: January

Chapter 5: January 1997

Like Christmas, they rung in the New Year with Bobby but this time at his house so they could safely shoot off fireworks. The benefits of living outside the city limits and far away from complaining neighbors, Bobby had said. They had done a bonfire, roasted marshmallows and hot dogs and made s’mores, and marveled at the comet just starting to make itself visible in the night sky. It had been a great evening and they had laughed long into the night. 

Sliding into his homeroom seat minutes before the bell on Monday, Dean grinned as he caught Jen’s eye as she came in a moment later and sat down in front of him. 

She turned and said, “Did you get your paper done?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “Thanks to a great study partner and a wonderful study session over the holidays.” 

“I’m sorry it was cut short,” she whispered. “Maybe we can do it again, soon.”

He nodded, “I’d like that.” Luckily, he was saved by the bell and their homeroom teacher calling for quiet as the intercom and school announcements started. Staring at the back of her hair, admiring the way her dark hair looked soft and knew it felt just as soft, he sighed and shifted in his seat. After the disastrous evening with Sam being alone and their father’s imagined reaction to it, and his own guilt over everything, he was reluctant to repeat the experience. Dating might be another thing best left on the shelf for another couple of years. He really didn’t need the complications and added stress in his – their – lives right now. Being a monk might have some positives, he thought wearily.

“See you soon,” she said as the bell rang again and homeroom was dismissed. 

He forced a grin, saying, “Can’t wait.” They would get new class assignments in a couple of weeks and he was hoping that the change would result in an easy break and gentle way to stop the relationship before it picked up steam.

“Mr. Winchester, a word with you, please before you leave.”

He glanced up as he grabbed his backpack and saw his homeroom teacher holding a folded note toward him. Walking up to her desk, he smiled, “Hi Ms. Adams. Did you have a nice break?”

She smiled, “It was good, thank you and I hope your holiday was as good as could be expected. I’m sure it was tough …”

“Thanks, but it was actually OK. My uncle took time off and we spent a lot of time together, that helped.” As far as the school knew, they lived with Bobby at the same address they had used to register for school and they were doing nothing to correct that assumption.

“Good, good, I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “A note for you from Mrs. Whitehall in the Guidance Center.”

“Again?” he asked, trying not to sound annoyed as he took the sealed envelope. “I just spoke with her after Thanksgiving.”

Mrs. Adam shrugged, “It’s her job, Dean. She probably just wants to make sure everything is going OK with you.”

Shoving the note into his bag he smiled, “I know and thanks.”

She nodded toward the door, “Go on then, don’t be late.”

Luckily, Calculus was next door and, after claiming his seat on the last row, second from the last seat, just in front of Rob Yellen - his teacher had no imagination and assigned seats in alphabetical order – he opened the note, read it once, cursed quietly, and jammed it back into his bookbag.

That night, with dinner heating up in the oven and Sam doing homework at the dining room table, he went into the office and called Bobby.

“Hey kid, how are you?” the older man said when he picked up the phone.

Dean paused for a moment before saying in a quick voice, “I’m really sorry to bother you, Bobby but I got a note from school today and our stupid guidance counselor wants to meet with me again, sometime this week.” He sighed before falling silent.

Bobby waited for a moment for the story to continue before asking, “OK. Is that a problem, somehow?”

“Could you please do me a big favor? I hate to ask …”

“Depends,” he said cautiously. He had leaned over the years that, like Sam’s favors, Dean’s could come in all shapes and forms. They ranged from ‘Please buy Coke instead of Pepsi, next time’ to ‘Forge a note saying I’m excused from gym class because of a medical problem for a couple of weeks because I’ve got some nasty bruises that will raise too many questions’ to ‘Tell the school that you’re John and you knew I’ve missed school last week because I was sick, not out hunting a skinwalker on my own while Dad was busy in the next state’.” 

“The last time she wanted to meet me, I was almost late picking up Sam from school. He panicked and got really upset, but he would kill me if he knew I told you. But, I don’t know how long she’ll keep me this time and I don’t want him to panic again,” he said quickly before falling silent. “So, could you please do me a big favor and pick him up?”

“Of course,” he said evenly. “Just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“He gets out at like 3:45 and you need to be in line by 3:30 or it’s really long,” Dean said. 

“I know,” the older man said with a smile. “I’ve picked him up before. I know the drill.”

Dean sighed, “Thank you, I appreciate it. I just don’t want him to panic again and worry. Last time she wanted to talk to me, I made it to the school right as they were getting out and I was stuck out on the street, almost at the back of the line, and it took forever. I kept telling her I needed to go but she didn’t listen or believe me or something.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Dean,” he said evenly. “Just tell me when and we’ll meet you back at your house. He and I wanted to run a couple of errands together anyway, so this is perfect timing.” 

“I’m really sorry about this, Bobby.”

Bobby was quiet for a moment before saying, “Did you do something that you should be sorry about?” His voice was even and firm, with no hint of anger or accusation.

“No, I don’t think so,” Dean said quickly. My grades are fine, I’m turning in everything, my teachers seem happy,” he said quickly. “Like I said, I don’t know why she won’t leave me alone.”

“Then why are you apologizing, kid?”

Dean paused for a minute before saying, “For making you do this do? For asking you to drive all the way into town to pick up Sam when it’s something I should be doing?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but …” Bobby said firmly, “you are being an idiot. First off, I don’t mind. Second, I’m not surprised she wants to meet with you again, it’s her job. And third, as I’ve told you before, I don’t mind! This isn’t a problem, Dean. This isn’t something for you to apologize for and it’s certainly not a reflection on you that you have what we call a scheduling conflict. Other people have them, you’re allowed to have them, too. Taking care of Sam doesn’t mean that your entire life is put on hold.” He paused again, “Got it?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah.”

“That didn’t sound very convincing, boy,” he said softly. “Say it like you mean it.”

He laughed, “Yeah, OK. Thank you.”

“Good, much better,” he said. “What’s your schedule like this week?”

“We both have dentist appointments on Wednesday afternoon but other than that … nothing.”

Bobby smiled, “Excellent. So, set it up for Thursday or Friday and let me know. I’ve been meaning to sit down with you any way and look at bills and talk to you about how our system is going, as well.”

“I’ve been keeping everything organized so we can sit down whenever you have time,” he said. “There’s no problem, is there?”

Bobby sighed, “No, not at all. But I have to submit a report to the courts in about a month and I’m just staying on top of the paperwork.”

“Oh.” He had no idea that Bobby was still doing anything with the court system and their father’s estate and was suddenly embarrassed that he had no idea. That felt like something he should know or at least understand.

He laughed, “Yeah, ‘Oh’ is right. But it’s all good, kid. I’ve got it under control so nothing for you to worry about.”

“Thanks Bobby,” he said quietly, struggling with this new sudden knowledge.

The older man was quiet for a moment before saying, “Why don’t I bring the paperwork with me and I’ll show you everything when we sit down and look at your receipts. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” he agreed eagerly. “Thank you.” He paused, “I just feel like I have to know it. If I don’t know what’s going on …” His voice trailed off, suddenly embarrassed. 

Bobby chuckled, “It’s paperwork, kid but if it makes you feel better, I’m happy to go over everything with you.” Trying to find the right balance with the younger man was a very delicate task and one he and John had discussed multiple times. How best to keep him informed so he didn’t worry but at the same time, not overwhelm him with details and information so that he felt as if even more was being laid on his shoulders. John had struggled with his own choices over the years and was both proud of how he had raised Dean but also regretted the burdens placed on him. 

OOooOOooOOoo

Taking several deep breaths as his teacher handed out the final exam the next week, Dean forced himself to push aside any thoughts of his ongoing To Do list, the parent-teacher conference that afternoon for Sam, and the note Jen had slipped to him during homeroom. Sam had been argumentative all morning, bitching and moaning about the smallest thing and, as a result, Dean had been later than normal dropping him off and rushing to get to his own school on time. He had slid into homeroom just as the bell was ringing and, as a result, Jen had not been able to sit next to him … something he only slightly regretted. He had a headache already and two finals to finish up today. At least school for both of them was off tomorrow, making it a nice three-day weekend and he was looking forward to the break.

“OK everyone, you have two hours and if you’re done early, just sit quietly,” the teacher said, glancing at the clock before sitting down at her desk.

Flipping the paper over, he rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tension and lessen the headache that had been building all morning. During his meeting last week with the guidance counselor, she had expressed concern because several of his teachers reported that he looked stressed, tired, and distracted sometimes during class. He suppressed a smart-ass comment and instead had tried to look confused and bewildered over what he possibly could have to be stressed, tired, or distracted about. Instead, he assured her that everything was fine, thanks for asking; yes, everything was great with classes, grades, friends, and teachers, thanks for asking; and no, things were fine with his uncle and he was happy to be living there, thanks for asking. She had looked less than impressed and made the veiled threat hidden in a promise to check in with him again, soon.

“So, how’d your day go,” Dean asked as he picked up Sam at lunch time. Between finals and conferences and teacher workdays, both of their schools were on early dismissal and they were on the way to meet Bobby for lunch before returning to the middle school for Sam’s meeting.

Sam shrugged and muttered, “It was fine.”

Suppressing a tired sigh, he nodded. “Good. Trying again five minutes later, he said, “We have your doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning but after that, a free weekend. Do you want to do something fun together?”

He shrugged but didn’t say anything. 

“OK,” Dean said, carefully driving through town. As they stopped at a red light several minutes later, he said, “Maybe target practice over at Bobby’s with either guns or crossbows in the barn?” He gently bumped his brother, “I know I could use some pistol practice and you did great last time. Plus, Bobby’s got that cool repeating bow that we could play with … time trials, see who can put down the most tires, if he’d let us.”

He shrugged again, “Whatever you want to do. I don’t care.”

“OK, then I vote we go camping!” Dean said, glancing at his brother and grinning. “We’re expecting snow again this weekend and what could be better than sleeping outside … in a thin tent … in the snow!”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a stupid ass.”

“Hey!” Dean protested, “don’t be rude.” Glancing at him again, he said, “What’s going on, Sammy? You were in a shitty mood this morning and it’s certainly not improved.”

“I’m allowed to be in a shitty mood, if I want!” he shot back, scowling. “I don’t always have to be in a good mood just because of you. I’m allowed to be upset if I want to be.”

Pulling into the Chili’s parking lot and spying Bobby’s truck already there, he parked nearby and shut off the car. He nodded, “Yes, you’re allowed to be upset but you’re not allowed to be rude. Do you want to tell me why you’re upset? You know we can talk about anything and I won’t be mad.”

Sam shook his head, mouth turned down and lips tight.

“OK then,” he said with a shrug. “You have two choices … either drop the attitude because I’m tired of it and Bobby won’t put up with it. You don’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows but you can’t be rude, either. Or you can stay in the car.” Pocketing the keys, he opened the door. “The choice is yours …”

Crossing his arms, he shook his head and didn’t move from the passenger seat.

“OK,” he said, getting out. “If you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. Just lock your door if you come in.” Locking his own door, he closed it and went into the restaurant.

Bobby glanced up as the younger man slid into the booth across from him. “Did you forget your brother?” he asked with a smile, knowing there was no chance of that actually happening. 

He shook his head and nodded toward their car in the parking lot, “No, he’s out in the car sulking.”

“Sulking about what?”

Dean shrugged as the waitress came over for their drinks. After placing their order, he said, “Hell if I know. He woke up in a bad mood this morning, I was almost late to school because of him, and it didn’t improve while he was at school.”

Bobby glanced out the window, “Did you ask him what’s wrong?”

“Of course,” he said, giving the other man an exasperated look. “Several times and I reminded him he could talk to me about anything, which is true. I told him he had two choices – be at least polite at lunch or stay in the car.” Waving his hand at the parking lot, “And that’s his answer.” He shook his head, “I’m a hell of a lot more patient with him then Dad ever was with me. I can’t imagine being allowed to sit and sulk in the car at 13. Dad wouldn’t have even considered it.” Shaking his head again, he said, “I’d be running laps at some park until I was too tired to be in a foul mood or at least sitting with my butt or ears or both burning at the table eating after Dad made his position on my attitude known.”

He smiled, “It’s hard to imagine you actually sulking at 13. You were stubborn as all get out but I think you had a very good idea of where the line was and didn’t cross it too often when your dad was around.” He paused, taking a sip of the recently delivered drinks. “Want me to go chat with him?”

Dean thought for a moment before nodding, “If you want to, it can’t hurt. But don’t pressure him either. He can be a mule for sure at times when you pressure or box him in. You have to let him make up his own mind or be prepared to wage all-out war and simply overpower him.” 

“I think we’ll save that option for some place other than the Chili’s parking lot prior to a school conference,” Bobby said with a grin. 

Passing over the car keys, he said, “Good luck.”

Taking another sip of his coke, he went out to the car and, unlocking the door, slid into the driver’s seat. 

Sam jumped slightly and then sighed as the older man got into the car, shutting the door behind him to block out the cold air. “Did Dean send you out here to make me come in?”

“No,” he said simply. 

Clearly not expecting that answer, Sam glanced over at him, shifting in his seat. “Oh … then why are you here?”

Bobby turned slightly in the seat so he could look at the boy before saying slowly, “Well, I came out here because I know you’re a good kid and don’t usually act like a jerk to your brother, who has enough on his plate without you piling more on him. So, I figured if you were being an ass, there had to be a good reason and I was curious what that was.”

“Dean said I wasn’t allowed to call him an ass, that it was rude,” Sam countered, scowling.

“It is,” Bobby agreed. “But right now, that’s what you’re being and I’m older … so I’m allowed more leeway.” He grinned as Sam cracked a small smile. “So, spill it, kid. What’s going on?”

He was silent for a long moment before saying suddenly, “I’m sick of not being normal and Dean doesn’t get that because he’s never cared about being normal.”

Bobby nodded, “OK. How are you not normal?”

Twisting around, he grabbed his bookbag from the floorboard and dug into it. Pulling out a folded sheet of paper a minute later, he thrust it at the older man. “We got this from school on Monday and I was supposed to have turned it in today but … just … couldn’t. And this stupid meeting today … I’m the only kid whose brother and uncle are coming and my homeroom teacher keeps forgetting that but then she remembers and it’s awkward every time because everyone knows she’s talking about me when she says stupid stuff like ‘I look forward to meeting everyone’s parents … umm ummm family this week!’” He gave a fake stutter as he pitched his voice high, imitating his teacher. “Then this morning, she forgot and said ‘parents’ again and a boy in my class made a stupid comment about it being parents except for ‘orphans’, and Jason, my friend, yelled at him for being stupid and she got flustered and they both got detention, which made me feel bad.”

Unfolding the paper, Bobby nodded slowly, “Sounds frustrating.” Scanning the sheet, he said, “This looks like a permission slip?”

“Yeah, for a stupid movie all of us are going to,” he said. 

“Your school is taking you to the movies?” 

Sam rolled his eyes, “It’s this new version of Hamlet, it’s not Star Trek or anything cool but look at that!” He jabbed his finger at the paper.

His eyes drifted to the paper where someone had carefully crossed out ‘parent’ by the permission signature block and handwrote in ‘guardian’. He nodded, “I’m guessing this was just on yours?”

Sam nodded, “When she was passing them out, she pulled mine from the bottom of the pile instead of just mixed in with everyone else’s. Jason’s sheet was … normal.”

“I get it,” Bobby said with a nod. “And this just further proof that you’re not normal?”

He nodded, “And Dean doesn’t get that because he doesn’t care about being normal.”

Privately thinking the older boy never had a chance to know normal or be normal, Bobby let that slide. “So, why didn’t you turn this in? I would have signed it or he would have in a heartbeat. Hasn’t he been signing your permissions slips for years?”

Yeah but as Dad!” Sam said loudly. “No one knew it was my brother signing them. They thought it was my dad, just like everyone else. And we never went to Parent-Teacher Conferences, ever. We were never in schools long enough or Dad wasn’t around and it wasn’t important. But now you and he are both going…”

“And that’s further proof that you’re not normal,” Bobby said when Sam’s voice trailed off.

He nodded, “Yeah.” He sighed loudly and leaned his head back on the seat.

Watching the anger drain out of the boy now that he had vented, Bobby nodded several moments later. “I get it … it sucks not to be normal.” He smiled as Sam nodded. “I don’t have a solution though to this problem. Let’s go in, get something to eat, tell Dean what’s going on and maybe between the three of us we can figure out a solution.”

Sam sighed tiredly again but nodded. “Yeah.”

“And I think a good start would be for you to apologize for being a jerk to your brother. He didn’t cause this problem and, I’m sure, is happy to help you solve it if you give him a chance.”

Sam sighed again, “Yeah, I know. Even if he doesn’t totally get it …” He shrugged again, letting his voice trail off. “You’re really big on apologies,” he said with a small smile.

Bobby nodded, “Yep, and it’s a good life lesson. Fights usually clear up quickly once you admit you’re wrong, when you’re wrong.” Opening the car door, he said with a smile, “Come on. It’s freezing out here and my old bones can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry I was rude and a jerk,” Sam said quietly as he stood next to the booth a minute later, unsure which side to get in on.

Dean smiled as he easily slid over on the booth bench to make room, “I appreciate it, Sammy. Want to tell me what’s up or did you and Bobby work it all out already?”

He shook his head as he sat down and glanced across the table at Bobby.

The older man nodded at him and then handed over the permission slip paper to Dean.

Glancing down at it, he said, “All this drama because you are going to see Hamlet and forgot to turn this in on time? If you get me a pen, I’ll sign it now and we’ll turn it in when we go for your conference.”

“No,” Sam said in a frustrated voice before tipping the paper toward him and jabbing at the handwritten part.

“You want Bobby to sign it?” Dean asked puzzled. He glanced at the older man and passed the paper back across the table to him with a shrug. “Here you go.”

“Dean!” Sam said loudly, his frustration rising.

“What Sammy?” he shot back. “Spit it out, I clearly can’t read your mind.”

Stepping into the conversation before it spiraled out of control, Bobby said, “Sam, tell Dean what you told me in the car about being normal.” He made eye contact with the younger man indicating that this was important.

Sam sighed and began the story again.

Allowing his brother to vent for almost five minutes, Dean nodded from time to time and then, once they had placed their food orders, said slowly and simply, “I’m sorry, Sam. Sounds like a rough week. How can we solve this? What would make you feel better, more normal?” Every article he had read over the last few months talked about acknowledging frustrations, empathizing with bad situations, and not automatically jumping in to solve it without the kid’s input. He found himself automatically parroting back the suggested comments. 

Inwardly grinning at the younger man’s comments which sounded word from word from some Oprah special, Bobby swallowed and took a sip of his coke to stop himself from laughing.

Sam glared and shrugged. “I don’t know!”

He nodded, “OK. First, let’s solve the easy problems and then we’ll tackle the harder ones. How does that sound?”

Sam nodded.

Dean smiled, “Good.” He glanced between them, “Anyone got a pen?” Reaching across the table, he pulled back the permission slip paper and took a pen from Bobby. “Thanks,” he said, scrawling R. Singer on the paper and handed it to Sam. “Done. Turn this in when we get back to school so you can go see your movie with everyone else next week.”

Bobby glared at the younger man for a moment before saying, “I’m right here, idjit. Why didn’t you just have me sign it?”

Having the good manners to look slightly embarrassed, Dean shrugged. “Sorry, I’ve signed your name several times already on various forms for both schools lately. I didn’t even think about it and this way the signatures are the same. Oh, and your signature is on the paperwork at both the dentist’s and doctor’s offices promising to pay anything insurance doesn’t pay within 30 days.” He winked at Sam, causing the boy to giggle, and then grinned at Bobby. “I picked the forms up before our appointments so I could fill it out at home and … have our legal guardian sign it.”

Bobby shook his head, “Boy …” He leaned back as the waitress delivered their food. “I’m not sure if I should be impressed you thought of that or take you back home and give you a good paddling for forgery.” He glared at Dean, “I still might do that … depending how the rest of the day goes.”

Sam laughed, “Dad hadn’t signed anything for me in like five years.”

Dean shifted on the bench before shrugging with a small smile. “It was just easier…” Taking a bit of his burger, he chewed slowly and then said, “Sam, I get why you hate being singled out by your teacher.”

Sam nodded, “She just keeps calling attention to the fact that Dad’s gone and keeps reminding everyone of it instead of just letting it go.”

The older man said, “And maybe that’s the way to bring it up to her.” He glanced at Dean, “Maybe assure her that we don’t need or expect them to alter forms that say ‘Parent’ to ‘Guardian’ on our account.”

“She might be trying to be respectful, Sammy,” Dean said softly. “Some people might take offense and see her, them, giving you a form that says ‘Parent’ as if they don’t remember that Dad is dead.” He looked at his brother for a long moment before saying, “Does that make sense?”

Sam nodded after a long moment. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, gently bumping against his brother. He looked at Bobby, “So we’ll say something along those lines to her this afternoon?”

“Right,” he agreed. “I think that intentions are good, just … I get the feeling this is a new situation for them.”

“Because it’s weird to be an orphan,” Sam said with a sigh. “It’s not normal.”

Privately hating the word ‘orphan’ and the baggage and connotation that went with it, Dean took another bite of his burger, buying time as he figured out what to say.

“You know,” Bobby said slowly, “I don’t know that anyone with a brother like Dean and an honorary uncle who knows more about you than many real uncles do, should really be called an orphan. That’s such a Victorian word that makes me think about cleaning chimneys and sleeping in streets and workhouses.” He grinned at Sam, “Your brother doesn’t make you sleep in the street, does he?”

Sam rolled his eyes before smiling, “No. But he does make me work around the house!” He laughed and bumped against Dean. “He says it’s ‘chores’ but I think it’s more like free labor.”

He snorted, “Free? I give you an allowance, squirt!”

“Not much! I only get $10!” he protested. Turning his attention to Bobby, he said, “Did you know he only gives me $10 a week?”

“When I was your age, I got $1,” the older man said, “so count yourself lucky.”

“It’s what Dad was giving you and what I got until I turned 16,” Dean said firmly. “So … deal or maybe go get a job, if you want more.” He grinned as his brother rolled his eyes again. 

Bobby nodded, “Let’s add a generous allowance as another thing that orphans don’t have and maybe banish that word from our vocabulary.” He smiled at Sam, “Plus, being normal is good but the definition of normal is huge. How about you aim for being uniquely normal?”

Dean grinned at that, “Uniquely normal?” He nodded, “I like that … that fits you, Sammy, because you’re not boringly normal or stupidly normally.” He eyed his brother and said, “And, I hate to say it but we both know it’s true …”

“What?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“You’re not handsomely normal, either,” he said with a grin. “Not with that hair and those big feet, at least …”

Sam stuck out his tongue. “Jerk! And you don’t have any room to talk!”

He laughed, glancing at Bobby, before nodding, “Yeah, uniquely normal is good and a great goal.” He ruffled his brother’s hair, “And the next time some idiot in your class says you’re an orphan, tell them to join the rest of us in the almost 21st Century and then ignore them.”

Sam nodded, “OK.”

Walking into the school two hours later, Bobby held Dean by the arm to slow him down slightly, allowing Sam to go ahead of them. “Do you remember our conversation after the meeting with the Principal?” he asked.

Dean squirmed against other man’s hand. “Yes. I’m guessing you want me to let you do most of the talking?”

He nodded, “Yes, especially about how their accommodations are making Sam feel. Teachers typically don’t like being corrected and having to hear it from someone they consider another kid ….” He shook his head, “Just let me handle it, Dean.”

Glancing away, he opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling with what to say.

“The words you are looking for,” Bobby said firmly, stopping for a moment on the sidewalk and looking at him, “are ‘Yes’ and ‘Sir’.” He met the younger man’s eyes for a moment, daring him to offer a correction.

Dean gave a quick nod, “Yes, sir.” But then added, “As long as you protect him if there are problems, I’ll stay quiet but someone has to be in his corner and make sure he’s treated fairly.”

“And that’s exactly what I’ll do,” he said firmly. “I love him as much as you do, so trust me.”

He was quiet for another moment before nodding, “I do and thanks, Bobby.”

“Based on Sam’s grades, I am going to recommend that he be put on the Honors Track in high school next year,” Mrs. Greenville said, looking at Bobby. She and Principal Pagett had discussed the lunchroom incident prior to Christmas and both had decided that the school’s policy would be to continue to try to deal exclusively with Sam’s legal guardian and leave the older brother, who was still in school himself, out of discussions as much as possible. “Do you have any concerns about that?”

Bobby glanced at Dean and shook his head. “I don’t. What do you think, Dean?” As he thought, the teacher had not been thrilled to see them both, even though she covered it well, and had directed most of her comments directly to him. As a result, he had deliberately brought Dean into the conversation every time, hoping she would get the hint.

Dean smiled, “I think that only makes sense. I’ve spoken with Ms. Caldwell and she’s told me his reading and writing levels are well above 8th grade level and that will certainly help in multiple classes, not just English. Mrs. Houston has commented that his history papers are well researched, thought out, and written. His previous school did Pre-Algebra in 7th Grade, which automatically put him into the advanced class for Algebra this year, with Mr. Banks, and his grades are good. If he continues with math all fours year’s, he’ll be able to take Calculus his Senior Year. Plus, being on the Honors Track will put him on the right track for AP Classes in his Junior and Senior Year, which I think he’ll enjoy.” He smiled slightly at the teacher, “I’m not concerned about the extra work, he can handle it.” He knew he was slightly overplaying his knowledge off Sam’s schoolwork and teachers’ names but he wanted to make sure that this teacher understood he was paying attention and as on top of things as well as any parent. 

“Wonderful,” she said with a smile, now fully understanding why Pagett had taken an almost instant dislike to the brother. He was too sure of himself and too in charge, even with his uncle sitting right there. Privately she thought it would do him a world of good to be put firmly in his place. Luckily though, that wasn’t her problem and Sam was sweet and easy to deal with. “I know this year has been a challenge for Sam, given his father’s death and move here, but he seems to be handling things very well. He’s made several close friends and seems to be settling in with a wider group of kids in all his classes.” She tapped the folder in front of her, “Given how often he’s moved in the past, I was worried but things seem to be going well.”

Bobby nodded, “Good to hear. And speaking of his father’s death, an issue has come up that has me – us – concerned and we want to clear it up and, hopefully, get your help with.” He smiled at her.

OOooOOooOOoo

“Why can’t you live some place warm, Bobby?” Dean yelled as he opened the door, banging his boots on the older man’s porch a week later. The snow was coming down in big, fat flakes, and the wind had the temperatures down to near zero. Turning toward the car, he said, “Sam! Hurry up or you’ll freeze to death!” Watching his brother struggle with a bag and large wrapped box in the backseat, he hurried back to the car. “Go, I’ll get it.”

“You can’t carry your own birthday presents, Dean!”

“Sure I can, watch me, squirt,” he said, bumping his brother out of the way and grabbing the awkward presents. “Go, before you turn into a Samsicle and we have to stick you in front of the fireplace to thaw you out.”

He laughed and ran toward the house as Bobby held the door open. “Hey Bobby!”

“Sam,” he said with a smile, ushering the kid inside. “Happy Birthday, kid!” he said as Dean stepped onto the porch. “I know how much you love cold and snow and I figured I’d order it special for you.”

Dean laughed, “Well, you did a kick ass job in presents department, then.” Handing the presents to Sam, he sat down at the kitchen table and pulled off his boots so he didn’t track mud and snow all over the house. Putting them and his coat next to Sam’s stuff in the laundry room, he laughed as the older man hugged him tight.

“Happy birthday,” he said again with a smile. “I’m glad you boys got here safely. How are the roads?” They had come straight from school and Bobby had been anxiously looking out the window for the last 15 minutes.

He shrugged, “It’s coming down pretty hard. I packed us a duffle this morning when I saw the forecast and threw it in the car. You might have houseguests, if you don’t mind…”

“Of course not!” he said quickly. “No sense getting back out in that mess tonight, in the dark, unless you have to, which you don’t do. I actually thought that might be the case when I saw the weather this morning, too. So, I went ahead and made up your beds upstairs.” He glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 4:30. 

Dean noticed his glance toward the clock and gave a small nod. Going into the living room, he said, “Sam, Bobby and I are going to be on the phone for a few minutes so entertain yourself. OK?”

Sam sighed, “Not a kid, Dean. I don’t need to be entertained.”

He laughed and followed Bobby into the library, shutting the door behind him and sitting down at the desk.

“Hey Alan,” Bobby said into the speaker phone as the lawyer in Blue Earth picked up the other line. “It Bobby Singer and Dean Winchester. Is this still a good time for you?”

“It is and happy birthday, Dean!” Alan said. 

“Thanks,” he said.

“So, to get right to the point,” the lawyer said, “as I’ve mentioned in some of my other calls to you, Bobby, my recommendation would be to hold off on any petitions for changing Sam’s guardianship.” He paused, letting his words sink in. He and Bobby had spoken about this subject earlier in the week and the other man had warned him the news would probably not be taken well by Dean. 

“Why?” Dean asked, struggling not to raise his voice. “I’m 18 now and my father’s Will said that I would be Sam’s guardian when I turned 18.”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Alan agreed. “And if your father had died tonight instead of almost 3 months ago, you would have had a better chance but even then, it wasn’t a guarantee, especially with Bobby waiting in the wings to take over. A Will is just a recommendation, a statement of wishes, but it’s still up to the courts to decide these things.” 

Bobby glanced at Dean for a moment before reaching out and patting him on the shoulder.

“As it stands now, you would be petitioning the courts to change guardianship from Bobby to you or, as the courts would see it…” he said slowly, pausing again before continuing. “From an adult who has been an active part of Sam’s life for 10 plus years, with a job, and his own business and who your father trusted to handle the financial aspects of his estate, to a barely 18 year old still in high school unemployed teenager. Honestly, even if your father had died tonight, it would have been a hard sell.”

Swallowing, Dean shook his head slowly. He had been prepared for this recommendation but it still hurt. “So, what do you recommend? What can I do?”

Alan said, “Honestly, Dean … at this point, very little. This isn’t a matter of you not doing something. This is just the courts and the fact that you are 18. My recommendation is to hold the status quo. Graduate, go to college next year, keep living your life with Sam and Bobby. Sam will be an adult in less than 5 years and none of this will matter.”

“You mean not even bother trying to become his guardian?” Dean shot back. “I should just let this go, totally?”

“Dean …” Bobby said quietly, putting his hand on the younger man’s back. 

“To be blunt,” Alan said over the phone, “yeah, I’m saying you shouldn’t bother asking the courts to change guardianship and should let this go. You have a great personal relationship and a very strong working partnership with Bobby … count yourself very lucky and get on with your life. From what he’s told me, you are, for all intents and purposes, Sam’s guardian now. Why fight the legal battle when the odds of you winning are low just to get a document that’s almost meaningless in day to day living? Maybe in a couple of years, if things change and there’s a need, we can explore a duel guardianship arrangement between the two of you.”

Folding his arms on the desk in front of him, he rested his head on them and closed his eyes.

Watching him for a moment, Bobby said into the speaker phone. “Thanks Alan. We’ll talk about it here and let you know. But, really appreciate your advice.”

“Of course,” the lawyer said. “And everything else is going great with the estate, the courts are pleased, paperwork is being submitted on time, social security benefits were approved … all in all, I’m counting this as a good situation. You should, too.”

Disconnecting the call a minute later, Bobby moved his chair over to where Dean still sat. “What’s going through your head, kid?”

“Nothing good,” he said in a dull voice a moment later. Sitting up with a sigh, he wiped his eyes and gave the older man a half smile. “Do me a favor, please.”

“Of course …”

“Keep an eye on Sam for a few minutes. I need a bit of time to myself and don’t want to worry about him.”

Bobby nodded, “Sure, easy enough. Does he know what’s going on?”

Dean shook his head, “No and he doesn’t need to. I mean, don’t lie to him if he asks but he doesn’t need all the details. It doesn’t matter to him …”

“I get it,” he said. “And no, it shouldn’t matter to him because nothing is changing.” He eyed Dean and said firmly, “Nothing is changing in either one of your lives. It’s irrelevant who the courts say is Sam’s legal guardian when we both know how this works.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

Hugging him again, he said, “Go upstairs and take a few minutes and then come downstairs. We have a birthday to celebrate, burgers to eat, fries to enjoy, and pie.”

Dean gave him another small smile. “Yeah … happy birthday to me. Finally, 18 and still considered a kid by everyone.”

Bobby shrugged, “Well, in my day, at 18, you’d be getting your draft number in the mail and looking forward to a government sponsored tour of Southeast Asia. Maybe, count yourself lucky.”

He gave him a half smile, “There is that.” Slipping out of the library, he went upstairs to the bedroom they always shared. Both beds were made and he flopped down on the one that was always his. Bobby had briefly asked, when they were there for New Year’s Eve, if he had wanted to move into the bedroom their father used but he quickly rejected that idea. Putting his arm over his eyes, he tried not to feel crushed beneath the weight of disappointment and failure. He had known it was a long shot for the last couple of months but had held on to a slim thread of hope that the lawyer would have some trick up his sleeve. In his mind, he heard his father’s voice over and over again, in a hundred different tones and a thousand different settings and situations, telling him to take care of Sam, watch out for …, to help …, to make sure …, to protect Sam. As he told Bobby the month before, it was his one job and the one thing he could never fail at and he couldn’t shake the feeling that’s exactly what was happening … somehow. 

“I guess the lawyer didn’t have good news?”

Dean smiled slightly and shook his head as he moved over on the twin bed, allowing Sam to lay down next to him ten minutes later. “Depends on what you consider good news, Sammy.”

“I heard you on the phone,” he said quietly, curling up slightly against his brother. 

He sighed and gently bumped against him, “You’re not supposed to be listening outside closed doors, squirt.”

“I wasn’t!” he protested. “Just didn’t have the TV on …”

“So you could hear,” Dean said with a smile, finishing the sentence. His grin widened as Sam gave an embarrassed shrug and smile. “But it’s OK; everything is OK and nothing is going to change.”

Sam sighed, “Good. I like our house and I like living there with you.”

“Me, too.” He hugged him, saying, “The good thing and something the lawyer reminded me of and it’s really true, is that Bobby loves you – loves both of us – and we love him and get along great with him.” He smiled as Sam nodded, “So really, it doesn’t matter who has legal, legal custody. That’s just a piece of paper and it doesn’t change anything in our day to day lives.”

He giggled, “And you can do a great Bobby signature.”

Dean laughed, “That’s R. Signer, thank you very much.” He sighed, forcing himself to focus on the words he was saying to his brother and not the lingering doubts in his mind and his father’s voice. Or the contingency plans he had in place in case he needed them, another lesson courtesy of their father’s training.

“Are you sad that Dad’s not here on your birthday?” he asked several minutes later. “He missed a lot of birthdays …”

He shrugged, “Of course I’m sad. But it’s not the day that’s important, you know. I understand, just like you do, that Dad couldn’t always be around on the specific day but he always called, always wished he were with us, and we always celebrated when we were together.” Refusing to focus on all the lies he just told and praying that, like his younger brother’s Christmas memories, birthday memories were equally glossy, he sat up. “Come on Sammy, get up and let’s go downstairs. It’s my birthday and I saw those presents you were pulling out of the car.” He grinned and tickled his brother, “Up!”

Sam laughed, twisting away as he rolled off the bed. “Of course you saw them, Dean! You carried them in!”

He laughed, “Only because otherwise you’d freeze and I didn’t want to spend precious time today having to thaw you out in front of the fireplace.” Going to the window in the bedroom, he peered out into the darkness at the falling snow, making a face. “We are definitely going someplace warm for your spring break.”

“Mexico!” Sam suggested happily. “We can eat tacos all the time and I love tacos. And sit on the beach!”

“We’ll see,” he said with a smile. “But we may need to stick some place in the US, we only have a week. Maybe Mexico next Christmas?”

Sam smiled, “Feliz Navidad!” 

He laughed, “I see you’ve decided that Latin had gotten boring. You going to pick up Spanish, too, in 9th Grade?” Heading out of their bedroom, he continued downstairs with Sam behind him. 

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “I’m better at Latin then my teacher right now.”

Hearing the exchange, Bobby said loudly from the kitchen, “After all the work I put into teaching it to you, kid, I’d hope so!”

Sam grinned as they came into the room, “You did a great job! It’s the one class I barely have to study for.”

“Always good to have one of those,” Bobby agreed. “What do you boys want to do now? Want me to start cooking or should we do presents?”

“Presents first,” Sam said quickly, grinning at his brother. “Like with Dad.”

“Yes,” Dean confirmed with a nod. “Presents and then food.” He smiled at Bobby, “Since we’d go out a lot of times for dinner for birthdays, presents first was the easiest.”

“Then presents it is!” the older man said, nodding toward the living room. 

Dean was speechless for a long moment after opening the large, square box. Pulling out the dark brown leather backpack a moment later, he said quietly, “Wow. This is fantastic.”

Bobby grinned at him, “You needed something new, kid. Your current one has seen better days.”

He smiled and gave an embarrassed shrug, “It had probably seen better days when we got it a couple of years ago at Goodwill but it’s worked.” Knowing kids, he had always made sure that his younger brother’s backpack was new, in style, and nice looking. For his own, he simply didn’t care if comments were made … as long as it was functional, it worked.

“This one is much better,” Sam said with a laugh. “We didn’t want to just get you a canvas one, like everyone else.” 

“And it will last through college, too,” Bobby said. “You can’t be walking around campus with your old one.”

He smiled, “Yeah, this will really impress the college girls.”

Sam giggled and nodded. 

Bobby snorted, “Yes, that was high on the attributes list, boy.” He shook his head and grinned as he met Dean’s eyes. “Go on, open the other two.”

Dean did and laughed out loud at the three new cookbooks and then set of pans. 

Sam laughed, bumping up against him. “Bobby and I thought you’d like them. I picked them out and there’s lots of good stuff in there.”

“The pans you have now are fine,” the older man said, tapping the box. “But given how much you cook, I figured you’d appreciate an upgrade.”

“They’re great, thank you!” he said with a smile before hugging his brother. “You’ll have to show me some of the stuff you want to try, Sam, and we’ll tackle them next weekend.”

Sam grinned, “Yeah!”

Bobby stood up, gathering some of the paper, “Speaking of cooking, why don’t I get dinner started.”

Dean stood up too and, pausing for a second, hugged the older man. “Thanks for everything, Bobby. The gifts are great.”

He hugged him back, “You deserve them, kid. Not something that most 18 year olds would want but I figured …” He shrugged, “You’re not most 18 year olds, either.”

Dean grinned, “No and they’re perfect.”

“When you said that you were researching recipes at the library, I figured your personal library might need an upgrade and Sam agreed. We had fun looking at Barnes & Nobel for them.”

He nodded, “Yeah. I’ve picked up stuff here and there and ripped recipes out of magazines but these are great.” Swallowing hard, he immediately flashed back to multiple other birthdays over the years, some good, some great, and others … not.

“Lots of memories?” Bobby asked quietly. 

Dean nodded and sighed, “Yeah.” He shook his head and gave the older man a lopsided smile and small shrug. “Not how I pictured celebrating my 18th Birthday,” he said quietly. “But at the same time … it’s the perfect way to celebrate it, too. With you and Sam and here and home.” He laughed, “And stuff to make home even better.” He swallowed and said quietly, “Almost perfect, at least.”

“Dean! We need to try this!” Sam said excitedly, holding out one of the books.

Bobby smiled, “You boys look at that and let me know what you’re going to make me for dinner next weekend and I’ll get started on dinner for tonight.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, grinning at him. Sitting back down on the sofa, he looked at the page and groaned. “Really Sammy? Chicken cordon bleu?”

“It’s fried chicken wrapped around cheese!” he said bumping against his brother. “It looks really good!”

“I vote for that,” the older man called out from the kitchen. “I haven’t had it in ages. It’s good, Sam, you’ll like it.”

“Thanks again, Bobby. It was a great evening and a wonderful birthday,” Dean said quietly several hours later. They were sitting on the couch in the living room and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly from Bobby’s video collection had just finished on the VCR and the tape was rewinding quietly in the machine.

Glancing over at Sam asleep on the recliner, Bobby turned his attention back to the younger man and pulled him into a hug. “Of course, kid. You doing OK about Alan’s recommendations for Sam?”

He shrugged, “I guess. I don’t know there’s anything to be done so … I guess I have to be.”

Bobby was quiet for a moment before nodding. “I hate to say it but yeah, I think, right now at least, there’s nothing to be done. You just have to accept it and trust that it will be fine.” 

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.

Kissing the top of his head, Bobby said, “I know, kid. Trust and accepting … two things you don’t do easily.” 

He laughed and shrugged. “When it comes to keeping Sam safe and making sure he’s alright … no.”

“Well, we’ll keep working on it then.” Allowing the silence to settle back over them, he held the younger man close.

“Speaking of Sam,” Dean said several long minutes later. “I have a favor to ask or just something to talk to you about because I’m not sure.”

“OK,” Bobby said when the younger man didn’t continue. “What’s up?” Letting him go, he moved so he was sitting, looking at him. 

Dean shifted slightly and said, “I told Sam we’d go someplace for spring break this year or at least look at going someplace for spring break because we’re both sick of the cold and the snow. He’s never really gone on a real vacation for spring break before, it was always hunting trips with Dad or being stuck some place with me …” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Is that something we have the money for? Is that something we can do?”

He smiled, “Yes, you certainly have the money for it and I think that sounds like a great idea.” Hating to bring up a sensitive topic but also wanting Dean to be aware, he said, “Most rental car places don’t rent to people under 25 so you should either go someplace you can drive to or go someplace you can fly to and then use public transportation or cabs.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said, “and I was thinking Sam might like Washington DC. We’d have to fly though … “

Bobby nodded, “I think he’d love that. You’ve never been?”

He shook his head, “No, closest we ever got was a few towns in western or southern Virginia but nothing that close.”

“I think that sounds like a great trip for you.” He smiled, “I know a woman who is a travel agent in town and who can help you. Do you want me to give you her phone number and name? Or do you want me to go with you and I can help?”

Dean glanced away and took a deep breath, “I’ve got it. If you give me her name and number, I’ll take it from there.” He smiled, “Thanks Bobby.”

He nodded, “Sounds good.” Standing up, he said, “Let me get that for you now, so I don’t forget. Why don’t you wake up your brother and send him up to bed.” He wasn’t surprised that the younger man wanted to handle the trip himself and, after today’s conversation, he knew the need for independence would be strong. He’d privately drop a word with the travel agent so he could stay on top of things but also give Dean the independence he craved.

OOooOOooOOoo


	6. Chapter 6: February

February 1997

Sitting down in his Government class the next Tuesday afternoon, Dean yawned. It was his last class of the day and he was ready for school to be over for the day. Without thinking about it, he began to mentally review what needed to be done at home that night.

Jen giggled, leaning over as she sat down in front of him a moment later. “Don’t start or I’ll start yawning. How are you?”

He smiled slightly at her, pulling himself back from the mental list he was going over in his head. They no longer had homeroom together but it seemed like almost their entire econ class was together still for Government and she seemed determined to keep up a relationship. “I’m good. How are you?”

She grinned, “I’m great!” Leaning closer, she said, “I’m having a party on Saturday and I was hoping you’d be able to come.” Her smiled widened, “No nosey aunts this time, I promise. My mom is fully aware and we’ll have the whole basement to ourselves. It’s got a cool set up with a pool table and plenty of seating around the TV.” She leaned slightly closer, “And plenty of dark corners.”

Despite his private pledge to himself, he felt his blood stir at the ideas of being with her again. Shifting slightly in his seat, he gave her a lazy grin. “I’d like that. Dark corners and no aunts sound like the perfect Saturday evening.” He nodded as she smiled at him, “Let me check with my uncle and my brother’s schedule …. Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“Of course!” she said with a happy laugh. “And, depending on how you play your cards … the weekend after that is Valentine’s Day. A girl hates to be lonely on Valentine’s Day.”

He forced himself to smile, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

She grinned before turning back in her seat as the final bell rang.

Trying hard to focus on the lecture, his mind kept drifting back to the night after Christmas and how his father would have reacted to Sam’s experience and his own guilt over his brother’s fear. His stomach twisted as he remembered his own terror of walking into the house and seeing the disturbed salt line and knowing all the things that could have gone wrong. The idea of risking any of that again just to have some fun with a girl he barely knew made his stomach feel sick, even as the idea of getting to know that same girl, or any girl really, better made his blood hotter. 

“Mr. Winchester?”

Jerking his head up, he met his teacher’s eyes. He swallowed, “Sorry. Can you repeat what you said? I was taking notes and didn’t hear you.” 

“I asked for you opinion on how the Anti-Federalist Papers added to the Constitutional debate,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said with a small smile. 

He closed his eyes for a second, searching his memory of what he had read the night before and said slowly, “I think it did two things …”

At the bell, Jen stood up and grinned at him, “I think I need to go ahead and claim you now as my study partner for Government, too. Econ Whiz and now Government King.”

Standing up, he stuffed his notebook into his bag. “No, the Bill of Rights prevent that, which is what the Anti-Federalist wanted to make sure happened,” he said with a grin. “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget to check on your schedule,” she said, reaching out and touching his arm.

He nodded, “For sure. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget that the trash has to go out tonight,” he said as he pulled the car into the garage. 

Sam sighed, “Yeah, I know.” He rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to remind me, Dean. I’m not an idiot.”

“Well, you were scrambling last week when we were trying to leave in the morning … so forgive me if I feel the need to remind you this week,” he shot back, hating the annoyance in his voice but his tiredness make it hard to control.

His brother glanced at him and smiled slightly, “Sorry. I’ll do it right now.”

“Thank you,” he said, reach out and messing with Sam’s hair. “We need to get this cut, again.”

Jerking away with a laugh, he said, “Stop messing with my hair and you don’t have any room to talk. You got yours cut when I got mine cut and yours is shorter so it grows quicker.”

He yawned, opening the back door and grabbing both of their bookbags. “Go do the trash, I’ll carry your bag in.”

Sam looked at him, “Are you tired?"

“A little and I have a headache,” he admitted, as they walked into the house. “Don’t worry though, I’m fine.”

He nodded slowly, “OK.”

Pulling his brother into a quick hug, he said, “Seriously, Sammy. I’m fine. Just a little tired but I’ll be better when I know the trash is pulled from all the inside cans and the can rolled out to the street and you bring in the mail, too.” He hugged him again as his brother laughed and rolled his eyes. “Why don’t I make us something to snack on and we’ll both take a little break before homework?”

“Oh! Bagel bites, please! I’m starving.” 

Dean laughed, “Sure. I think we have some in the freezer.” Watching him make his way upstairs to empty the trash cans, Dean went into the kitchen and pulled four frozen mini pizzas from the freezer and stuck them in the toaster oven. “Pizza things will be ready in about 10 minutes!” he called in the direction of the stairs before sitting on the sofa and putting his feet up.

“I’m coming and will be done in 5!” Sam yelled back.

Leaning his head back on the couch, he closed his eyes.

“Are you asleep?” Sam asked quietly 10 minutes later.

Forcing his eyes open, he smiled and fell back on one of their father’s often used lines, “Nope. Just resting my eyes. Did you get the food?”

Sam grinned, sitting down on the sofa and holding out a plate. 

Sitting up straighter, Dean smiled, “Thanks, squirt. Garbage all out?” Blowing on the mini pizza for a second, he took a small bite. They weren’t great but they were hot and good enough, certainly not the worst things they had eaten.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Yes and I got the mail. I put it on the counter.” 

Bumping his brother, he grinned, “I’m assuming you’re talking about the mail, not the garbage.”

“Oh!” Sam said in mock surprise, trying hard not to grin at his brother’s stupid joke. “Garbage on the street, mail on the counter! Duh! I’ll fix that as soon as I finish eating!” He bumped back and laughed before settling back on the sofa. 

“So, what’s going on in your world, right now Sammy boy? Papers? Projects? Hot dates?”

Sam shrugged, “Nothing really but a stupid thing in a couple of weeks at Emma’s church that she asked me to go to. Ray goes there, too, and Jason is going even though he doesn’t go to that church so I don’t think it’s anything really religious.” He glanced over and said, “Do you think I can go? I told her I’d have to check since it’s at a church that we don’t go to.”

He was quiet for a minute as they stumbled into an area he hadn’t anticipated or given much thought to. “Well,” he said slowly, “if you want to go, you can certainly go. The fact that it’s at a church isn’t a big deal.” He grinned, “I’m assuming it’s a regular run of the mill church, of one of the mainstream religions … no Satan worshipping or anything like that, right? Pretty sure that Dad would have drawn the line there.”

Sam laughed, “Yeah, I think it’s First Methodist or First Avenue Methodist or something like that …”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, all the names run together and that’s fine. If you want to go, you certainly can.” He took a bite of his pizza before asking slowly, “Does it being at a church bother you or make you want to not go?” Religion had never been a part of their lives and, except for occasional services when they were visiting or staying with Pastor Jim, the only time they set foot in a church was for a job. Neither one of their parents had a formal funeral, with John’s simply body cremated. Bobby had the ashes still and they didn’t have a clear idea or direction on what to do with them. “We could go see Pastor Jim one weekend if you want to talk to him about God or religion, if you want. When we saw him in November, he said how much he’d love to have us visit. Or you and I can talk about it or even go to some different churches, if you want.”

He shook his head, clearly not interested in any deeper discussion, “No, I’m good. I’ll tell her it’s OK then tomorrow.”

“OK, just let me know when and if you need a ride,” he said. “You said that Ray goes there?” When Sam nodded, he said, “Do you mind if I call his parents and get some info about the event? I’d feel more comfortable knowing … more.”

Sam sighed, “Fine but don’t embarrass me, Dean, by asking stupid questions or making it a big deal or anything.”

He grinned, “Sammy, sometimes I live to embarrass you. It’s part of my job as a big brother. Embarrassment and torment, two of the perks.” Finishing up his pizza, he wiped his mouth and fingers. “Speaking of plans, how do you feel about spending the night at Bobby’s this Saturday?”

“I thought we were going to the bow range and lunch?” he asked with a frown. “You promised.”

“For sure and we are totally doing that,” he confirmed with a smile. “I wouldn’t cancel that and I’m looking forward to it. I’m thinking about either me dropping you off or him picking you up later, well after we’re done. I have a party to maybe go to and …”

“And after last time, you don’t want to leave me alone in case I freak out again and cause problems,” Sam said quietly, interrupting.

“No, that’s not it at all,” he said firmly. “I don’t know how late I’ll be and I would worry. This is all about me, not you.”

“Yeah right. But it’s fine, I’ll go.”

Dean bumped him, “That’s the can do, cheerful attitude I expect!” Reaching out, he tickled him, “Trust me, Sammy. You were fine, I’m just a worrywart in my old age.” 

Sam giggled, pulling away. “Stop it, Dean! Will you tell Bobby to make burgers again? They were great.”

“I can certainly ask, not tell, him if he would, especially if you agree to help.” He paused for a minute, “And I might not even go, I haven’t decided yet.”

“You should go!” Sam protested. “Is it with the same girl as before? The one you saw right after Christmas?”

Dean grinned slowly, “Yeah and her aunt won’t be showing up this time unexpectedly.”

He laughed, pushing against his brother, “Then you have to go, for sure! Maybe you’ll get lucky this time.”

“Well, I’m going to have a good time and not necessarily to get lucky. A gentleman doesn’t go out with a girl hoping to do anything but make sure they both have a fun time and everyone expects you to be a gentleman, Sam. Understand?” When he nodded, he smiled, “Good. But I want to see how the week is going and what Bobby says and I’ll let you know.” 

Sam grinned at him, “Whatever you say, Dean.”

An hour later, he glanced at the clock. “Before it gets too close to dinner time, I’m going to call Ray’s parents about the church thing so you can let Miss Emma know tomorrow.”

Sam blushed, looking up from his homework, “Don’t be weird about it, Dean.”

He rolled his eyes, “What did I tell you, Sammy? Embarrassing you is one of the few perks of my job.” Reaching over, he messed up his brother’s hair, “But don’t worry, I’ll be a perfect adult. Got to keep up the illusion, right?” He laughed and winked at his brother, who laughed with him. Heading into the office and shutting the door, he pulled out Ray’s phone number and quickly dialed. “Hi Agnes, it’s Dean Winchester. Is this a good time for you?”

“Dean,” the woman said with a smile in her voice, “Hi. How are you doing? Now that my schedule changed, I haven’t been picking the kids up at school the last couple of weeks and I miss our chats.”

“Me, too,” he said. He had made the deliberate effort since their father’s death to make friends with the parents of Sam’s friends and classmates he saw at school, always presenting himself as their equal, as an adult who – like them – was raising an 8th grader to the best of his ability. He always called them by their first names and chatted with them in the school pick up line or during the PTA meeting. “I’m good, things are going well here. How are you and Raymond?” They chatted for a minute before he said, “Sam told me about a church event in a couple of weeks that Emma and Ray invited him to. He said that you all go to the same church and he has several friends going. I was hoping to get some more info from you about it. We’re not really religious … so …” He allowed his voice to trail off.

“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “I get worrying but please don’t. This is just a social event for kids that they hold every year on Valentine’s Day. There’s like four events … one for little kids and late elementary in the late afternoon with candy and balloons and then that night, two dances for the middle schoolers and high schoolers with music and dancing and food. It’s just a way to promote …” She paused for a second, “I guess promote a safe party environment and …” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she added, “not drinking, abstinence and staying away from S-E-X.”

He bit his lip to avoid laughing out loud at the thought of Sam’s reaction if he spelled the word sex instead of simply saying it. “So, it won’t matter that we’re not Methodist or really anything?”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “Not at all and I promise you, probably half the kids there, especially at the Middle School Dance won’t be from our Church, either. I got roped into being a chaperone last year and lots and lots of kids invite their friends.” She laughed again, “The boys stand on one side, the girls stand on the other side or dance with each other because the boys are too shy and everyone eats chicken wings and pizza rolls and drink horrible fruit punch.”

He laughed, “Sounds about right and Sam’s speed.”

“Ray’s too,” she confirmed. “If you want to coordinate, you can pick up Ray that night and I’ll pick up Sam afterwards and he can sleep over, gives you the night free.” She grinned and gave a chuckle, “Since I know you’re not in Middle School … us Married with Children people don’t give a shake about Valentine’s Day but I do remember those pre-marriage days.”

He laughed, feeling himself blush. “Sounds good. Thanks!” Despite Jen’s desire and his own possible decision on Saturday’s party, he knew there was no chance that he’d commit to any sort of date on such an emotionally fraught and meaningful holiday the next week. But, he also wasn’t going to turn down a quiet Friday on his own, either and the chance to get ahead on either school work or his To Do list.

“I’ll call Meredith and see if Jason also wants to spend the night.”

“Great, just let me know and I can swing by and get him, as well.” Chatting for another minute, he disconnected the line for a moment before dialing Bobby. 

“Hey kid, how are you?” Bobby asked a moment later.

“I’m good, Sam’s good, we had bagel bites for a snack this afternoon while we sat on the couch and talked … life can’t get much better,” he said with a small laugh. “Oh, and one of Sam’s friend’s mother spelled out the word ‘sex’ instead of just saying it to me, like a normal adult, when we were talking just a minute ago. I’m going to be laughing about that one for a while.” 

Bobby laughed, “I’m not sure what I’m more puzzled about … what bagel bites are or why you were talking to one of Sam’s friend’s mother about sex.”

“Oh, next time you’re over here or next time Sam comes to your house, I’ll get him to show you bagel bites. They’re these crappy but good frozen pizza things. And sex came up because he’s going to a church event over Valentine’s Day in a couple of weeks and one of their goals is to make sure that the kids don’t have sex.”

“In middle school!” he asked, shocked at the idea. “I have to say, I’m not a huge fan of church or organized religion but that’s a damn good idea, to me.”

Dean laughed, “I think … I hope, at least, that the sex part is more for the High School Dance event. From what she told me, at the Middle School Dance, the boys and girls barely speak to each other much less sneak off to dark corners.”

“Well, I would hope that your father gave Sam a good lecture about sex already.”

“Hmmm….” Dean said, going quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure. Maybe that’s something you can handle, make sure he has all the details and information he needs, given that you’re his legal guardian and all.” The dead quiet on the other end of the line made him laugh a moment later. “Don’t worry Uncle Bobby,” he said in a laughing, mocking tone, “Sam knows all about sex and I’ll continue to take care of it in a nice, age appropriate way.”

“Boy …” he growled and then laughed. “Other than giving me a heart attack, what’s on your mind?”

“I haven’t decided to go yet but I was invited to a party on Saturday, this Saturday, and I was wondering if Sam could spend the night at your place. If I end up going, I mean.” He paused again, “I’m not sure if I’m going or not.”

The other man was quiet for a moment before saying firmly, “You should go, Dean, and of course he can stay with me.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “If I end up going, I mean. Can I let you know on Friday?”

“No,” Bobby said slowly. “Assuming there isn’t a problem or bad situation that you are trying to avoid, you should go. Let’s just decide that right here, right now, that you’re going. You’ll get rid of Sam for a whole night, let go of some of your responsibilities, and go have some fun with friends.” He paused, “Is there a real reason you don’t want to go? Is the party at a bad place or the host an ass or something?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “She’s nice, the house is great. It’s the girl, Jen, whose house I went to right after Christmas to study and work on papers.”

“Right … studying and working on papers, I remember that,” he said with a laugh. “So, what’s the hold up, kid?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.” He was quiet for a moment before saying, “I just worry about Sam.”

“Don’t,” Bobby said firmly. “He’s fine and he can stay with me. We’ll make pizza or burgers or something and watch movies. He’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he said quietly, twisting in the desk chair. “I just worry.”

“Well don’t.” He chuckled, “Go tell the boy that he’s spending Saturday with me and plan on having a good time like any normal 18 year old. Save your worrying energy for stuff that really matters.”

Dean smiled into the phone, “Yes, sir.”

“Idjit.”

He laughed, “Thanks Bobby.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Dean smiled as Jen slid into a seat next to him the next day. “So … if your invite still stands …”

She grinned at him, “I can count you in?”

He nodded, “I’m looking forward to it.” Leaning closer, he added, “And looking forward to no aunt interruptions this time.”

Jen blushed and giggled. “Me too.”

“Can I bring anything? Chips? Wings? Pizza? Anything non-dry?”

She shook her head, “Nope, all set but I do have to warn you … totally dry party. It’s the only way my mom would agree since she’s pretty strict about the no alcohol thing, at least since she stopped drinking a couple of years ago. Before then, it was much more free flowing but… I hope that’s OK?”

He smiled, “No problem at all. We don’t need it to have fun.”

Pulling the car into the garage and getting out, he glanced down the driveway and smiled slightly at the sight of his brother struggling with the big rolling trashcan in the snow piled up at the curb. It was freezing and the mostly frozen slush around the can was making the wheels stick. It was such a normal, boring, childhood chore and he felt his own breath catch as it dawned on him that this was exactly what Sam wanted, needed, and it was going to be their lives for the next four years, at least. While they had certainly lived in houses before, they were never there long enough to sign up for garbage pick-up and John had always been reluctant to leave anything personal sitting on the curb for anyone to take or rummage through. There were too many spells and curses that could be easily cast with hair and other personal traces, not to mention the notes on hunts and monsters that would really raise eyebrows. Instead, everything had been bagged up and tossed in communal dumpsters or taken directly to the town dump or landfill. His own personal biggest garbage memory, if there was such a thing, was bagging it up and taking it to a dumpster at the corner of the hotel parking area. Shaking his head slightly, he called out, “Got it, Sammy?”

“Yeah,” he yelled back, tugging the can free and half dragging, half rolling it up the driveway. “It got stuck and the wheels are frozen,” he said, putting it back in its place on the side of the garage.

“Well, be careful,” Dean said. “I’ll get your book bag. Did you get the mail or has it not come yet?”

He made a face, “I have to go back and get it. I couldn’t carry the mail and fight with the stupid can.” Frowning, he kicked at a pile of icy snow. “I’m so tired of winter.”

“I’m with you on that,” he said with a smile. “Go get the mail and I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“Dean!!” Sam yelled a minute later. “Dean!”

Jerking the door between the garage and the house open, he stepped out and caught Sam hurrying through the garage. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Huh?” Sam asked, puzzled. “Nothing but look what you got in the mail! It’s thick and that means it’s good news!” He grinned, shoving a thick white envelope at his brother.

Taking the envelope from him and seeing the seal for the University of South Dakota, Dean swallowed and smiled. “Great, thanks.” Pressing the button to close the garage door, he moved them back inside. “Will you check on the hot chocolate and make sure it’s not boiling?”

Sam ignored him. “Open it! I read that if it’s thick, it means it’s good news because it only takes one sheet of paper to say No but a bunch more to say Yes and here’s all the details.”

“Yes, I’ll open it but first go check on the hot chocolate. I don’t want it all over the stove,” he said with a frown. 

His brother rolled his eyes but moved into the kitchen.

“Shoes!”

“God,” Sam shot back, pausing in the laundry room and tugging off his boots. “You and the stupid shoes rule,” he muttered. 

Dean glared at him, causing Sam to give a small smile, “Any time you want floors added to your chore list, just let me know and I’ll be more than happy to do that. Then we’ll see how you feel about the idea of tracking your nasty boots all over the place.”

Stirring the hot chocolate a minute later, he glanced over and smiled. “What’s it say, Dean?”

“I got in,” he said, forcing himself to smile. “There’s a bunch of paperwork here and info about financial aid and whatnot.” Folding the sheets back together, he shoved them back into the envelop. “I’ll read it this weekend.”

“I bet you hear from the other school soon, too!” Sam said, smiling. “I think it’s great that you got in. You should call Bobby and let him know. He’ll be happy.”

Forcing himself to laugh, Dean nodded, “For sure! This will be something for us to celebrate at lunch on Saturday.” He walked over to the stove, bumping against his brother gently, “That and you managing to hit the target at least twice with the bow.”

Sam snorted and bumped him back, “I bet I do as good as you!” He smiled, “Or at least almost as good as you.”

“I’ll take that bet,” he countered, reaching for the mugs. “And I’ll even front you a couple of points to make it more fair.” Pouring the hot chocolate into the two mugs, he handed one to his brother. “What’s on the homework list for tonight? You have your counties test on Friday, right?”

Sam sighed and nodded, “Yeah and it sucks.”

“Ok, sit down then and show me how it’s going. I’ve got calculus to do but I can help you with the counties.”

“There’s so many and it’s stupid!” he complained, moving toward the table. 

“Dude, there’s like 60, you said,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I had a week’s notice when I was in 8th grade and we were in godawful Indiana. Want to guess how many counties Indiana has?” When Sam shook his head, he said, “92! I managed to do fine and you’ll do fine.”

“State History is just a stupid class,” he complained again, grabbing his book bag. “And there’s 66 counties! And too many square ones!”

“And you’ve known about this test for several weeks,” Dean countered, getting his own book and notebook out and sitting down at the table. “Grab one of the practice maps we ran off at the library and show me what you’ve got.”

Making a face, Sam went into the office and grabbed one of the blank maps showing just the South Dakota counties outlined. His test required that he label each county on the blank map. The teacher had given them all a single copy to practice on and Dean had insisted on more, saying it was the only way to learn them. 

“OK, sit down and get started, no looking at your notes,” Dean said when the younger boy came back into the dining room and sat down at the table. He glanced at the clock and then back at his brother, still scowling and not moving, “Get started, Sam. I want to see how it’s going.” He smiled, kicking his brother gently under the table, “You’ve got it, I promise. You knew almost all of them this weekend.” 

Sam smiled, shifting, “Yeah but it’s still stupid.”

Dean laughed, “Who knows, it might come in handy. If I’m reading about a lady in white who is giving the guys of … Ziebach County trouble, you’d be able to tell me where that is and help me get there.”

He laughed, “So would a map!” 

“Well, you’re quicker,” Dean said, nodding toward the paper. “Show me what you got.”

“Did knowing the counties of Indiana ever help you?” Sam asked, giving his brother a slow smile. “No lies between us, remember.”

Dean laughed quickly, “Good point and yeah, probably not but we live here now and are going to live here for years so … who knows.”

“And now that you’ve gotten into college here, we’re really going to stay here,” Sam said with a grin. 

“Right,” he said. Nodding at the map again, “Get to work.” Turning his attention back to his own homework, he tried hard not to think about the acceptance letter sitting on the island. He didn’t want to go but, at the same time, he didn’t know what else to do when clearly their father and Bobby both fully expected him to go to college. His mind flashed back to the conversation that fall and John’s suggestions, insistence, and desire for him to have a normal life, helping to ensure that Sam had a normal life. The whole thing made him feel exhausted and he had no idea how to even broach the topic with Bobby. He yawned, sipping at his hot chocolate and struggled through calculus problems. 

Forty minutes later, Sam sighed and put down his pencil. “Want to check them?”

Dean nodded, putting down his own pencil and reached for his brother’s filled in map and the completed one that had been face down under some other papers. “Sure, let me see.” He grinned, “And let me grab my red pen …”

Sam laughed, rolling his eyes at the familiar joke. Getting up, he moved to the other side of the table and leaned on his brother’s back, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder so he could watch him quickly check his answers. “Do you remember teaching me my multiplication tables and helping me memorize them?” he asked quietly a minute later, not sure where that memory suddenly came from. “We’d sit next to each other at this little table in a kitchen, I don’t remember where but it was a house, and you had made up these flash cards for me. And then we’d sit together and you’d check my worksheets. I’d get so nervous watching you, not wanting to have messed any of them up even though you didn’t get upset.”

He chuckled, putting down his pen and rubbing his brother’s head, “Of course I remember that, Sammy. I made those flash cards out of index cards, front and back, because I didn’t have enough to only do one side.” He laughed, turning back to the map, “I remember being very impressed with my planning because I did them in the order so that they were already in the right order to go back up.”

“Huh?”

“On the back of the 1s, were the 12s, the back of the 2s, were the 11s … so when I’d flip the card over, the numbers would work their way back up. The last flashcard, 6x12, had 7x1 on it and I didn’t have to shuffle, just pick up the pile and keep going up.”

Sam laughed, “Really? That’s brilliant, Dean!”

“That’s me,” he said with a grin. “And your map looks great. You only missed two and watch your spelling of Walworth and Deuel. You put in an S in Walworth and you forgot the first E in Deuel.”

He smiled, “Thanks!” Going back to his own side, he pushed aside those papers and pulled out a couple of Latin worksheets. He glanced up and asked quietly, “Will we still do homework together next year when you’re in college?”

Dean grinned at him, “Of course.” 

“Good,” he said softly. “I couldn’t do it without you, you’re too good of a teacher.”

He smiled, “Thanks, Sammy.” The moment felt heavy with memories … too many houses and towns, too many evenings with just the two of them, too many schools and trying to either catch up or not be bored – depending on the class and school, and he suddenly swallowed, feeling the ache of their father’s absence hitting him hard. He nodded, toward the Latin worksheets, “Don’t correct your teacher too much with those.”

Swallowing and blinking back sudden tears, Sam gamely smiled, “I let little mistakes go because Bobby says those might just be personal choices in translations. But if there are major issues then we discuss it and I usually win. He knows I’m better.” He laughed and gave a small shrug. “When it’s life and death, you get good quick.”

“Or dead quicker,” Dean finished. 

Coming half awake, Dean rolled onto his side and moved the covers, allowing Sam to slip into his bed around midnight. “Everything OK, Sammy?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, just …” 

“It’s OK. You’re good but letting in the cold air.” Settling the blankets back over them, he hugged his brother tight. “It’s all good.”

“Just thinking about Dad,” he said softly. “And missing him.”

“I know,” Dean said, kissing the top of his head and hugging him again. “Me too.”

OOooOOooOOoo

“How about I front you five points?” Dean said, setting up the target sheets at the bow range Saturday morning. 

Sam nodded and grinned. “I can totally beat you.”

He glanced over at Glenn, the owner of the range, who was standing in the waiting area half watching them and half doing paperwork and smiled. “What do think, Glenn? You’ve been watching us for months now. You think the kid can take me?”

The older man laughed, “He’s good but you are a bit better, I think. I’d put my money on you. Want me to call up Bobby and see if he wants to get in on the action?” He had been introduced to the hunting community through Bobby but had quickly held up his hands when the full explanations started, closing his eyes, and saying he wanted to remain ignorant, even as he helped with producing silver tipped arrows and special arrowheads and multiple types of blades out of various and unique materials. John and his sons had started coming around with Bobby on and off for the last several years and he had been happy to hear that they were moving to the area permanently but sad when he understood the reasoning in early fall. After watching Dean shoot with his father and Bobby, he had bent the rules slightly and allowed the older boy to come alone to shoot and then, by late fall, bring his brother to shoot without their father or Bobby. They were fun to watch together and clearly had fun together, despite the age difference. 

Motioning toward the bow stand, he said, “You want to go first, Sam or you want me to go?”

He smiled slightly, “You go first, sets of five?”

Dean nodded, “Sounds good.”

“I just spoke to Bobby,” Glenn said, sticking his head into the shooting lane, “and he says he’s money is on Sam.”

Sam grinned, “I’m so going to win.” He glanced at the older man, “Dean has a date tonight, so I’m spending the night at Bobby’s and if I don’t win, he’ll give me hell all night about it.”

Glenn laughed, “Good plan, kid. I wouldn’t lose either if I were you.”

Inwardly smiling, Dean groaned, “Great, so now even my backer has switched sides.” Picking up the bow, he centered himself and took several deep breaths before letting five arrows fly in quick, almost seamless precision. He smiled, seeing them all hit the inner two circles of yellow and two almost direct in the crosshairs. 

Sam groaned, “Dean!”

He laughed, “Come on, Sammy. You can do just as well, I know it.” Walking down to the target, he quickly noted his points and pulled the arrows before putting up a fresh sheet. “Move up to the next row, Sam,” he said, pointing to the slightly closer line. Walking over, he checked the draw weight and nodded, “Good. Ready?”

The younger boy nodded and slowly took a deep breath and focused.

“Watch your fingers,” he said softly and smiled as his brother adjusted his fingers a bit. “Good, perfect. When you’re ready.”

Letting the arrow go, Sam smiled as it thudded into the target inside the yellow. He turned and grinned proudly. 

“Very good!”

Glenn smiled, half listening to the gentle corrections and suggestions interspaced with laughter and repeated thuds into the target while he did paperwork. From what he had seen, their father had been a highly skilled and disciplined marksmen. Using bows with a draw weight of 75lbs and able to accurately get off 10 arrows in 30 seconds, he was a force and Dean thrived or at least seemed able to withstand that intensity. The younger boy though couldn’t and ended up shrinking into himself. Until they started coming alone or with just Bobby, he had thought Sam was simply being forced against his will. But, under his brother’s guidance, he found his own confidence and was making rapid progress and having fun with it.

“OK, ready to do the five that count,” Dean asked, grinning. 

Sam nodded and laughed, “Yeah, now that I’ve worn you out.” He laughed again, “Being older and all … you get tired quicker.”

Dean laughed and nodded at the target, “OK, squirt, show me what you’ve got.” He could never let Sam win by out and out throwing a competition but he could certainly make it closer if he had an idea of what score he was shooting for.

“It was so close, Bobby,” Sam said with a laugh and a shake of his head. “He only beat me by like two points.”

The older man nodded, “Very impressive. Give it another year and you’ll win for sure, especially if you keep practicing.” Nodding toward the stairs, he said, “Bring your bag upstairs and then you can help me cut up onions. I thought we’d make onion rings to go with the burgers.”

Sam grinned, “Really? Cool, we’ve never done that before.”

“OK, have fun,” Dean said, bumping against his brother. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“At IHOP,” his brother confirmed. 

Dean smiled, “Right.” He took a deep breath, pushing down an irrational wave of fear he got every time that Sam was gone overnight night, no matter where. Too much knowledge of all the things that could go bump in the night and too many lectures made letting go extremely hard. “Thanks again, Bobby,” he said softly, giving the other man a tight smile.

“Midnight curfew, right?” he said in a half questions, half statement.

Trying hard not to roll his eyes as the older man brought up an order disguised as a discussion from the night before. “Right, midnight.”

Bobby smiled, “Glad you remembered, boy. Now, go,” Bobby ordered. “Have fun, be safe, it’s all good here. And don’t forget to call when you get home tonight.”

He nodded, suddenly reluctant to leave, “I know … I know …”

“Go.”

He smiled, “Yeah, OK. Bye Sam!”

“Bye!” his brother yelled from upstairs.

Jen opened the door an hour later and grinned, “You came.” She held out her hand and pulled him into the house.

Knowing his part and her expectations, he leaned in and quickly kissed her. “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?” He grinned and winked at her. 

She giggled and kissed him back, “Just anxiously counting the minutes. The party’s downstairs, come on. We’ll have plenty of time to ourselves later.”

“Can’t wait,” he said, only partially lying as she took guided him through the house and down the stairs. “Nice lay out. You really do have everything,” he said, peering around the well-equipped room and nodding at the other students gathered there. Allowing himself to be pulled into the nearby group, he readily accepted a can of coke and smiled, putting on the face of any happy high schooler on a Saturday night. 

“Wow, where did you learn to play pool?” Jen asked, smiling at him an hour later as a small group clustered around the pool table.

Dean laughed, “Oh, hustling for money at local bars with a fake ID my father gave me.” The stunned faces made him laugh and shake his head, “Just joking! Much more boring … my grandparent’s basement. Grandad was great at it, he learned in the army - said they always played for cigarettes - and he taught me. We played for candy.” He grinned as they laughed. 

Philip, a guy in their Government class, snorted. “I wish my grandparents had anything remotely that cool at their house. My sister and I go every summer and they don’t even have cable. They’re in the middle of Texas, so it’s hot as hell, but they think turning on the air is wasteful, so we just sweat and look at cows.” 

Jen laughed, taking him by the hand, “Come on my Pool Master. Help me get something upstairs, please.” She rolled her eyes as the small group laughed and several made cat calls.

“Is this my reward?” he asked as she pulled him close in the darkness of the steps. 

“Yes,” she said simply, kissing him deeply.

He smiled, “Very nice and I’ll take it. Much better than a Hershey bar, any day.”

“That your grandfather gave you?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

She kissed him gently, laying a hand on his chest. Leaning in slightly, she said in a low voice, “I’m much sweeter than that and can give you a better reward.”

“Candy is overrated,” he said quietly, swallowing as her hand drifted to his cock.

She glanced down the stairs and said, “So, Pool Master, shall we go back to the party or do you want to take advantage of the darkened stairs?”

He forced himself to grin, “Stairs sound nice and maybe you deserve the reward for inviting me to such a great party.” Gently pushing her against the wall, he kissed her deeply, gently pushing a hand under her sweater and resting it on her bare back. Rubbing up and down her spine with his thumb, he grinned, kissing her neck as she shivered under his touch. 

“Oh god,” she whispered. “How can that feel so good?”

“The neck and the back are two androgynous zones,” he whispered and then smiled when she giggled. 

“I think you mean erogenous zones.”

“Do you want me to continue or do you want to discuss words?” he asked, stilling his hands and grinning. 

She laughed, kissing him, “You can call it whatever you want as long as you keep touching me.”

“Good,” he whispered, kissing her again. 

Breaking away 15 minutes later, she sighed, leaning into him, breathless. One hand rested on her side, his thumb making lazy circles over one bare nipple, while his other hand rested on her bare back, dipping down just slightly to graze the top of her butt with his fingers. “We need to stop,” she breathed out.

He forced himself to stop kissing her and nodded. “Of course.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered. “But we need to.”

“OK, of course,” he said again, forcing himself to pull his hands away slowly and focus on his breathing, willing his cock to stand down. 

Jen closed her eyes for a second and nodded, “We need to stop.”

He smiled, kissing her one more time before stepping back and down a step. “Want something to drink?”

She nodded and smiled at him. “Thanks.”

Dean grinned and then quickly stepped back up and kissed her lightly. “Be right back.”

“I hate to cut this short,” he said, rubbing her leg and glancing at the clock. They were sitting around on sofas and chairs talking and she was half on his lap, half on the sofa cushion next to him. “My uncle thinks midnight is a fair curfew for the weekends.”

“My parents feel the same way,” another girl said, nodding and making a face. “I tried to tell them that I’m 18 and an adult but that went nowhere.” She smiled at Dean, “Where do you live? If you’re leaving now, maybe you can give me a ride.”

He smiled, “I’m over by Patrick Henry; like right between the middle school and our school.”

She frowned, “Oh, too bad. I’m in the opposite direction. I don’t guess you’d have time to drive that far?” Smiling at him, she giggled, “It’s only about 10 minutes from here so ...”

Jen frowned quickly at her and jumping into the conversation, “No, Liz, he doesn’t. This is the first time his uncle’s allowed him to come to a party here and I’m sure he’d like to come back and not get in trouble. Right, Dean?”

Not wanting to get in the middle of whatever tension had suddenly sprung up between the two girls, he smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, Liz. My uncle is brand new to the whole teenager thing and I don’t know how much leeway he believes in. I better not risk it.”

“No problem,” she said quickly with a smile. “Tommy is heading out soon, too, and I can get him to give me a ride.” She glanced over her shoulder to another group playing a video game on the tv. “Tommy, you’ll give me a ride home, right,” she called out.

“Yeah, sure,” a guy said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “I’ve got a midnight curfew and I’ve got to be at work at 6:00, so we need to leave as soon as I get done killing this level.”

Jen gave her a tight smile, “Great. Come on, Dean, I’ll walk you out.” Pausing by the front door a minute later, she kissed him, “Sorry about Liz.”

Suddenly eager to escape, he smiled, “No problem and thanks for helping me get out of that situation. She’s nice and all but …” Knowing what she wanted, he bent his head slightly and kissed her again, resting his hand on her back, dipping just slightly low enough to graze the top of her butt, “But …” He knew his signals and her imagination would fill in the answer she wanted without him having to say anything else.

She grinned, “Thanks again for coming. I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He grinned back, “See you Monday.” Kissing her lightly, he said softly, “Sleep well and sweet dreams.”

Giggling, she opened the door and said, “Night.”

Carefully pulling out of the driveway, he took several deep breaths and tried to still his racing thoughts and conflicting emotions. Jen was sweet, nice, pretty, fun but the idea of devoting any time or energy to any sort of relationship felt impossible when he felt like he was barely hanging on as it was now. His mind flashed back to the conversation several weeks prior with the school guidance counselor who said his teachers reported that he often seemed tired or distracted and stressed. He knew it was true but also knew he didn’t care … and wasn’t sure which was worse. 

Bobby glanced at the clock on the wall, putting down his book, as the phone rang and smiled. “Hey,” he said softly as he picked up.

“Home, safe and sound and 10 minutes early,” Dean said with a small laugh.

“Good boy,” he said. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” he said quickly. And then, “Thanks again for letting Sam stay over. Did you guys have a good night? How’s he doing?”

“We did and he’s good,” Bobby confirmed, glancing down at Sam curled up under a blanket and asleep on the couch next to him. “He’s asleep or I’d put him on the phone. The onion rings were great; Sam wants me to give you the recipe so you can make them for him, and then we watched True Grit. How has he never seen that?”

Dean laughed, “Hey, don’t blame me. You’re the western fan, his education in that area is your responsibility.” He smiled as the other man laughed with him. “We still on for breakfast in the morning and I’ll take him off your hands?”

“Breakfast sounds great and he’s not a problem at all, Dean.”

Falling into bed 20 minutes later, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jen’s comments and she had felt in his hands. Rolling over and closing his eyes, he forced himself to hope that she found someone who would appreciate her because it seemed impossible to him at this point.

OOooOOooOOoo

“I had fun on Saturday,” Jen, slipping into her seat in front of Dean before their Government class on Monday. “I hope you did, too.”

He smiled, “I did, thanks again for inviting me.” He could tell by her expression that she was hoping he’d say more. Pushing aside his misgivings, he leaned slightly closer and said, “I hope I can return the favor and invite you next time.”

She grinned and giggled. “I’d like that. In fact, I was sort of hoping you’d do it in time for Friday night.”

“Oh, me too,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t though, I have plans.”

Shifting in her seat, she frowned. “With someone else?”

Silently giving a quick thanks to the gods, he gave her a lazy grin and nodded. “Yes, but nothing for you to be worried about. Just a bunch of 8th graders.” He laughed softly, “My brother has a dance at a local church to go to and I’ve been roped into picking up his friends and driving them all to the dance and then they are all sleeping over.” He gave a small shrug, omitting the fact that they were sleeping over at someone else’s house, “He’s all excited about it.”

She smiled at him, “It’s so sweet that you are so involved with him. I wish I had a big brother like you. What’s his name?”

“Sam and it’s easy, he’s a great kid. I’ve been taking care of him basically his whole life.”

“I guess your mom isn’t in the picture?” she asked quietly.

Dean swallowed and gave her a quick smile and shook his head. “Nope, it was just the three of us – me and Sam and our father.” He glanced around, confident that no one else was paying any attention to their conversation before adding, “She died when Sam was about 6 months old and I was almost 5.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching out and touching his hand. “I thought they were just divorced or something …”

He shrugged, “It’s fine. I barely remember her and it’s hard to miss something you never had.” He was grateful when her next words were cut off by the bell and class getting started. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“You look nice, kid,” Bobby said as Sam came down the stairs Friday night in a dark suit. 

Sam blushed, tugging at the slightly too big jacket. “Thanks. It’s one of Dean’s old suits.”

The older man nodded, “It looks better on your then him.”

“Hey!” Dean protested, coming in from the garage. “I heard that and while it may be true, no need to rub it in.” 

Sam grinned as they both laughed. Picking up his small duffle bag, he said, “Are you both driving me?”

Bobby snorted, “No, I’ll leave that chore to your brother. I’m sure your friends are nice but the idea of listening to three of you in the back of the car … my ears bleed just thinking about it.”

“Bobby is going to stay here and get started on helping me with some protection symbols in the basement,” Dean said, walking over and silently adjusting the knot on his brother’s tie. Giving him a wink, he ruffled his hair, “Looks good, Sammy. Miss Emma will be even more smitten.”

“Stop it, Dean!” he complained even as he smiled and jerked away. “I don’t like her like that!”

“Whatever you say, Don Juan,” Dean said with a laugh. Taking the duffle from him, he said, “Ready?” When Sam nodded, he turned to Bobby, “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“Have fun, kid,” Bobby said, giving him a quick hug.

Sam grinned and nodded. “Have fun painting stuff.”

Surveying the basement four hours later, Dean sighed and nodded. “I know it’s probably stupid … but … it just makes me feel better.” They had imbedded iron strips around the entire basement door, painted a protection seal on the door itself, another one at the bottom of the steps, and then, after a dinner break, slowly and carefully laid a line of salt around the entire perimeter. 

Bobby nodded, “I get that. There’s a reason I spent a weekend building my panic room.”

“Yeah, it’s just been on my mind. Sam couldn’t call me when he took shelter in the storage room and that means if it were both of us, we couldn’t call you or anyone else for help.”

“I remember one hunter … guy name of Mike Barstow, who actually died in his panic room and, as near as any of us could tell, there wasn’t anything after him. He just got spooked one day, locked himself in and … died, starved to death or dehydration or something.” Bobby shook his head, “But he also wasn’t playing with a full deck, either.” He tapped his head, “A bit too much self-medication once he got into the life, if you ask me.”

Dean nodded, “I think I remember Dad telling me about him. About four, five years ago, now?”

“Oh yeah,” Bobby agreed. “It was big talk in all the roadhouses and gathering places for several months. First, concerns that that something had gotten through the normal symbols and protection lines and then, when nothing was found, just the idea of being so … stupid as to die that way.” He sipped at his glass of water and asked casually, “So … tell me again though why Sam was scared?”

The younger man laughed and shook his head, “Nothing really; all in his mind, Bobby.” He had given very broad strokes when he had brought the idea of reinforcing the basement’s protection a few days ago and wasn’t about to go into more details. “You know how it goes, you get an idea in your head and then end up scaring yourself worse than anything else.”

“Uh huh,” he said with a grin. “I’ll get it out of you, one off these days, kid.”

Dean laughed, “We’ll see about that.” Standing up, he said, “Ready for dessert? I made chocolate cherry cheesecake.”

“Really?” Bobby asked and shook his head. “And here I was all impressed with that pecan pie you made at Christmas and now you’ve graduated to cheesecake.”

Walking up the steps, he said, “Hey, you’re the one that bought me the cookbooks a couple of weeks ago.”

“And now I’m getting cheesecake out of the deal,” he said. “I’d call that a win for sure.”

Dean grinned, watching Bobby take a bite of the cheesecake 15 minutes later. “Good, huh? I’ll give you some to take home with you, we have plenty.”

He nodded, “Damn good, kid.” Poking at it slightly, he nodded, “Yeah. You did good.”

“Thanks!” Taking a bit of his own slice, he looked around the house and slowly shook his head. “Can I tell you something, Bobby?” he asked quietly.

Looking up, the older man nodded, “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

Dean studied him for a moment before getting up and opening a drawer in the kitchen. Handing over the two thick envelopes as he sat down, he said, “I got the acceptance letter from University of South Dakota last week and then South Dakota State came in on Wednesday.”

Bobby grinned, reaching over and patting him on the back. “Good job, Dean! Congratulations! Your dad would be thrilled, I know. I know how important it was to him.” Opening the envelopes, he quickly skimmed both letters.

He nodded, “Yeah, I know.” He took a bite of cheesecake and slowly ate it, watching the other man skim the information.

“Looks like you need to sign these, whichever one you want, and send it back by mid-April,” he said, glancing up. 

“Yeah.”

Bobby studied him and said, “Money isn’t a problem, Dean, if that’s what’s got you all twisted up about. Between scholarships and your father’s estate … this is what he planned for. There’s plenty, for both of you.”

He shook his head, “No, it’s not that.” 

Moving his chair over, Bobby sat next to him and rested a hand on his back. “Talk to me, kid,” he said softly. Ruffling his hair, he gently shook the other man’s head, “Tell me what’s going on in here.”

“I don’t think I want to go to college,” he said simply. “But, I don’t know what else to do.” He shrugged and looked at Bobby. “College seems the simplest with Sam because I’d be almost ready to gradate when he graduates from high school. I don’t know how I’d manage a job on top of helping him and the house and everything else.”

Bobby was quiet for a moment before saying, “Well, lots of people have jobs and have a kid and manage it. You could too.” He smiled, “And, luckily, Sam is getting pretty independent. He’ll be driving in a couple of years.”

Dean groaned, “Don’t remind me. I dread teaching him to drive in my car.” He grinned, “Can we buy him a car before then? He can scratch that one up and leave mine alone.”

Bobby laughed, “We’ll talk about it in a couple of years.” He and John had talked several times about the idea of college for Dean and he knew that his friend had been determined that both boys would go. “Did you and your father talk about it?” he asked, knowing the answer already but figured it was a good nudge toward encouraging the other man to talk.

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “He was dead set on it even though he tried to tell me it was my choice and I could go part time and all that. I knew what he really wanted and what he expects of me … expected of me.” Closing his eyes, he said, “Just … this isn’t what I expected my life to be. If you had told me last Valentine’s Day, I would have been hanging out with you, eating pizza and cheesecake that I made, in basically my own house, and working on an English paper on Shakespeare and happy with all of that, I would have thought you were insane or high or both.” He looked at him and gave a small smile, “Stuff I thought was a big deal or important or fun … just … doesn’t matter much right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like this girl at school who likes me,” he said softly. “She’s nice, pretty, but I barely have the energy to even care about doing anything with her.” He laughed, “Last year, I would have been all over her and Valentine’s Day on a Friday? It would have been the best weekend ever! This year? I was thrilled that Sam’s dance gave me an honest excuse to say no to her hints.” He took a bite of cheesecake and said, “I can’t help but think not caring isn’t a good thing … but I also find that I don’t care about that, either.”

Bobby nodded, “What do you care about? I tend to think that’s as important or even more so than not caring about something.”

“I care about doing right by Sam,” he said firmly. “I care about making sure that things are good for him and he’s happy and doing well in school. And I care if I’m doing well in school, too, because it was important to Dad and certainly causes less drama than if I was struggling.” He made a face, “I don’t need any more meetings with my schools’ guidance counselor and her concerned questions.” 

Trying not to dwell on how the other man’s cares were almost all focused on his brother or avoiding drama and not his own wishes, Bobby smiled, “You’re doing a fantastic job holding everything together.” Knowing it was probably a futile question, he still asked, “Are you sure that living here with just Sam is the best …”

“Yes,” Dean said firmly, giving him a tight smile. “Yes, he wants normal and needs normal and this,” he said, glancing around the house, “is normal. He has friends over and their parents can come in and no one thinks anything other than it’s a normal, boring, house.” Giving a small laugh, he grinned, “And I need to get a lock on the basement door to make sure no one accidently opens that looking for the half bath.”

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, one look at that protection sigil you painted and I think the ‘normal’ and ‘boring’ cover might be blown.” Turning serious again, he said, “But I get it, Dean. I really do. I just worry about you as much as you worry about him. I want what’s best for you, too and I want you to care about yourself just as much as you care about Sam.” He studied him for a moment and then asked quietly, “Does that make sense? You’re allowed to think about yourself, too. Not just what your father wanted or what Sam wants.” John was a hard man, he knew, demanding absolute obedience, perfection, and skill from his sons, especially Dean. It was one of the areas they often privately fought about when he would disagree about how his friend was raising his sons. 

“Did Dad tell you that I talked to him last May about dropping out and sitting for my GED?” Dean asked softly, looking down and poking at his cheesecake. 

Bobby was speechless for a moment at the idea and slowly shook his head, “No. He never mentioned to that to me.”

He shrugged, “Yeah. We talked about it after a hunt in May. Remember me telling you we tackled a water wrath in Wisconsin around Memorial Day?” When the other man nodded, he said, “We sat on the dock and talked about hunting and me and school and … that was one of the things I brought up that I had been thinking about.” He glanced over and shrugged, “School was just one more hassle to manage when I could be either working and bringing in money or helping him hunt and managing Sam. Graduation seemed like … just a waste when I had so many other responsibilities and things to do.”

Forcing himself to take another bite of cheesecake to avoid cursing John, the older man slowly nodded. “I can see you thinking that,” he said in a neutral voice. “What did your father say?”

Dean shrugged again, “He said he’d think about it but then …” He shrugged again, “Everything changed.”

He took a deep breath before saying slowly, “I loved your father like a brother, Dean, so don’t take this the wrong way. He was a brilliant hunter, could read signs and omens like no one I knew, especially for someone who wasn’t born into the life.” He smiled as Dean gave him a small smile and nod, before continuing, “But I think sometimes he was an idiot when it came to you and your brother, even though he loved you both deeply.” He shook his head, “The only answer to your idea of not graduating would be a hard no, no discussions about your other responsibilities or how else you might be useful. You are – were – 17 years old. Sure, get a part time job at the local grocery store or something but …” He shook his head and quietly cursed, “At 17, your focus should be on school and graduating. Not dropping out and settling for some quasi piece of paper from the state. You’re too smart for that, you’re too smart to have your future limited that way, even if you are sure you want to be a hunter.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said quietly. Glancing at Bobby he said, “But it’s been on my mind when I look at these college acceptance letters. Seven, eight months ago, I was thinking about dropping out, Dad issues his orders five months ago, now I’m looking at signing up for college classes and …” He shook his head again and gave a small smile, “It just makes me tired to even try to keep up with all the changes. I guess it’s no wonder that Jen is low on the priorities list right now.”

Reaching out, Bobby patted his back, resting his hand on the other man’s head. “I can see that and I’m not 100% sure that not caring too much about some random girl is that big of a deal.” He eyed him and said, “I don’t want details but I get the feeling you haven’t been hurting in the female attention area prior to this year.”

Dean grinned at him, “No.” 

“What can I do to help you, kid? How about hiring someone to clean and do the laundry?”

He shook his head, “No, that’s just a waste of money …”

“How about talking to someone? A professional?” 

Dean looked at him, “A professional what?” Then, he shook his head again, “Like a therapist? God, no … I just can’t even … what would I say? I’d have to lie so much and they’d hate Dad and think he was the world’s worst father when we both know that’s not true.” He shook his head again, “No, I couldn’t … the one at school is bad enough but what would I do if they wanted to take Sam or something? I swear to you, Bobby, I’d run …”

“OK, OK,” he said, holding up his hands. “Forget I suggested that. No need to go into a full blown panic attack over the idea. But I’m not letting go of the idea of helping you somehow.” He motioned to the letters, “In the meantime, I’m going to take them and put these away. Nothing has to happen with them for another couple of months. Don’t even think about it for 6 weeks. Put it out of your mind until April 1 and then we’ll see how you’re feeling.” Picking up the letters, he carried them to his coat and stuck them in an inside pocket. “Why don’t you head to bed, kid. I’ll clean up here.”

Dean nodded, standing up. “Thanks for listening, Bobby.” Allowing himself to be pulled into a hug, he sighed. “Don’t be mad at Dad about the whole school thing, OK? It wasn’t his fault, I’m the one who brought it up to him.”

“I’m not,” Bobby said, lying easily. “He loved you both so much and just wanted you to be happy.”

“I know,” he said, “and I want to honor his wishes, too. That’s important to me.” He shrugged, “I just need to wrap my head around being a college man, I think.”

OOooOOooOOoo

“So …” Sam said slowly, walking into the kitchen and leaning on the island, holding a folded piece of paper.

“What?” Dean said, glancing over at him as he cooked dinner the next Monday. “What did you do?”

Sam huffed, “Nothing! Why do you think I did something?”

He grinned, “I’m just teasing you, Sammy. What’s up?” Putting the spoon on the rest on the stove, he leaned on the island next to his brother. He motioned toward the paper, “Something for R. Singer to sign?”

“Only if you promise not to laugh,” he said, pulling the paper slightly closer to his chest.

Dean smiled, reaching for the paper, “Oh, no way am I making that promise, squirt. Especially with that lead in.” He laughed and bumped his brother, reading the paper. “You want to be in a play?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. We get extra credit for English class and I know a bunch of people who are doing it and it seems sort of fun, maybe. I’ve never done it before but try outs are this week. We have practice for a couple of months and then it’s at end of April.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said evenly, standing up and grabbing a pen from the outside pocket of his bookbag. Quickly scrawling Bobby’s signature on the form, he handed it back to his brother. “There you go, all official.” He smiled, going back to the stove and stirring the meatballs and sauce. “Want to put the garlic bread in the oven for me, please, and set the table? This will be ready in about 5 minutes.”

Sam nodded, moving toward the freezer for the bread. “Ummm …” he said after a minute, “is that’s it? Just that it sounds good to you?”

Dean glanced at him and smiled, “Oh don’t worry, Sam. I plan on teasing you long and hard about it. Lots of moaning and groaning about having to listen to you learn lines, having to go see it every night, having to buy you roses…” He grinned, reaching out and pulling his brother close and rubbing his head, “Lots and lots of teasing! I’m just pacing myself since I’ve got all of March and April to work with.”

He laughed, pulling away, “Stop! And no roses, Dean! That’s just for girls and you don’t have to come to see it, either.”

“Oh please! What sort of brother would I be if I didn’t come see you … fully stocked with tomatoes in case you’re bad.”

Sam rolled his eyes, laughing still. “You will not! Bobby won’t let you do that!”

Pretending to think, Dean nodded, “Yeah, probably not. Good call on the no tomatoes thing.” He grinned, pulling the boy close again and giving him a quick hug. “But seriously, Sam, I think it sounds good if you want to try it. Why not? Have fun.”

“Thanks,” he said, hugging him back. “If I get a part, practice is on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. I think it lasts until 5:00. Is that OK?”

He nodded, “Not a problem, I can pick you up at whatever time you want.” 

Sam grinned, “Cool.”

“What play are you all doing?” Dean asked 10 minutes later after they sat down. 

“Our Town,” he said and shrugged. “We haven’t read it for class but it’s easy because there’s no real scenery or costumes or anything.”

Dean nodded, “I remember that … the main character is a girl that dies at the end, right? And the Director narrates the whole thing, sort of like God?” It wasn’t the play he would have chosen for a bunch of 8th Graders and wasn’t thrilled with the whole last part where the dead clearly didn’t care about those still living, if he was remembering correctly. He made a mental note to see if Sam seemed bothered by the idea.

“The Stage Manager,” Sam said, taking a bite of the spaghetti. “This is good.”

“You make good meatballs,” he said, lightly kicking his brother under the table and smiling. They had made meatballs together on Sunday and frozen a large batch so they could easily pull them out as needed. He had given Sam the recipe and he had prepped other meals while his brother worked on the meatballs. 

Sam grinned, “Yeah, I do.” He laughed, taking another bite. “So, what’s going on in your world, Dean?” he asked, parroting back one of his brother’s standard questions and trying to keep a straight face before laughing again. 

Dean laughed and shook his head, “Let’s see … what’s going on in my world? I have a paper on Shakespeare and his plays due on Friday that I need to type up and we have to memorize all the Cabinet Members and their departments in Government as part of a test next week and we have a quiz tomorrow in Calculus.”

He made a face, “How many Cabinet Members are there? And why do you have to memorize them?”

“Fifteen, but I only have to memorize 14 since Gore is on the Cabinet and I know him already. And I have no idea why except I guess it makes it easier when we talk about the different positions in detail,” he said with a shrug. Rolling his eyes, he said, “Makes about as much sense as memorizing the counties.”

Sam grinned and nodded, “Yeah.” Taking bite, he said with a sly grin, “Are you going to see your girlfriend again? Maybe invite her over here? I’ll stay upstairs, if you want, I don’t mind.”

Delaying answering by taking a large bite, he thought for a moment before finally shrugging. “I don’t know, Sammy.” Too tired to discuss anything serious, he said, “I know it’s only Monday but I’m already looking forward to the weekend.” He smiled as his brother nodded, “Let’s plan on doing something fun, OK? I saw something in the paper about ice skating over in the park nearby.” 

Sam studied him for a moment before smiling, “Yeah, I need to go to the library to return two books but we can do that after school. Then we have time for ice skating, if it’s not too cold and lunch on Saturday.” He grinned, adding, “And I’ll quiz you on your Cabinet Members!”

He laughed, “Perfect. I appreciate the help. And, if you know your part in the play by the weekend, I can help you start to memorize all your lines.”

Clearing the table 20 minutes later, Sam carried the plates into the kitchen and put them in the sink. Bumping up against his brother putting the leftovers in a storage container, he said softly, “I know I don’t say it, but I appreciate you always being cool with me doing stuff and helping me. You always make time and I’m glad.”

Not wanting to go down too maudlin of a road, he bumped him back and grinned. “I will always make time for you, Sammy, but thank you. And, I’m counting on you to always have my back, too. We’re in this together. Right?” He smiled as his brother grinned, nodding toward the sink, he said, “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to help you wash the dishes. I cook, you clean and don’t forget to wipe down the stove.”

Sam laughed, “I know, I know.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Looking up as Jen sat down in front of him in their Government Class on Friday, Dean smiled and leaned slightly toward her. “I have a weird question for you,” he said.

She grinned, “I like weird. What’s up?”

“The weekends haven’t worked out great for us, schedule wise, but are you doing anything Tuesday afternoon? I’m free until 4:45 … maybe I can take you out to get something to eat or something?” Feeling unexpectedly nervous, he glanced down for a second before shrugging, “I know Chili’s or TGI Friday’s or whatever might not be …”

Jen laughed, “I love TGI Friday’s potato skins. Let’s go there. What happens after 4:45?”

He smiled, “Sam is in his school’s 8th Grade play and, starting next week, he has practice after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays until 5:00. I need to pick him up.”

“So maybe I can pick the place on Thursday?” she asked, giving him a quick grin before the bell rang and she was forced to turn around in her seat.

OOooOOooOOoo


	7. Chapter 7: March

Chapter 7: March 1997

“You boys ready for the storm coming in tomorrow?” Bobby asked the next Saturday over lunch, moving back so the waitress could deliver their drinks. “March comes in like a lion and here it is, March 1 and we have a major blizzard on the way.”

“We’re prepared,” Dean said, nodding. 

Sam nodded, rolling his eyes, “Yeah. Dean made us get up and out of the house this morning at 7:00 to hit the grocery store. I think we beat some of the employees in but we are fully stocked with real food and some fun snacks for snow days, candles, and extra batteries.”

“And what did we do after the grocery store?” Dean asked, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

The younger boy grinned, “Got doughnuts and hot chocolate at the cool bakery downtown with the dog and not just Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“Because ….” Dean said, motioning for his brother to continue.

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed, saying in a sing-songy voice, “because Dean is the coolest brother ever and knows that good doughnuts and hot chocolate make a well-rounded breakfast and are good reward for having to get up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday. And then we went to the gun range and blew holes in Bambi shaped targets.”

Bobby laughed with them and shook his head at them. “I think you mean Bambi’s mother. You two are a mess. Ready to order?”

Dean nodded, “I get the same thing every time, so I’m ready.” He glanced at his brother still mulling over the menu and shook his head slightly before turning his attention back to the older man. “While Sammy pours over the menu like we aren’t here several of times a month, tell me about the hunting trip you were on this week, please.”

Glancing across the table at the younger boy, before saying carefully, “I was helping Jed down in Nebraska. He got into a bit of trouble with the local police and was laying low but someone had conjured up a daeva and taking out people in the area. Those things can’t be allowed to just get away and we didn’t know who was controlling it.”

“Demon of darkness,” Dean said with a nod. “Cool.”

“Who was controlling it?” Sam asked, glancing up from his menu. “Is it a real demon or is that just the name? Like werewolves aren’t really wolves.” 

“We don’t have to talk about this if it bothers you, Sam,” Bobby said firmly. 

He shook his head, “I know what I’m going to order so I’m good.” 

Bobby was silent for a minute, struggling with how to respond to that or point out that wasn’t the issue before finally saying, “Turned out to be the school librarian who was controlling it.” Deciding he really didn’t want to discuss demons with the younger boy, he ignored the second question.

Dean chuckled, kicking his brother under the table slightly, “See what happens with you don’t return your library books on time?” 

Sam rolled his eyes, “How did you get it?”

“How did you kill it?” Dean asked at the same time and then grinned. “Jinx, you owe me a coke, squirt.”

“No!” Sam protested. “I said ‘get’, you said ‘kill’ so it’s not a jinx! Now you owe me a coke for calling a fake jinx.”

Dean laughed, pushing his brother’s drink toward him, “Here you go. Or were you planning on picking up lunch today?”

“I would if you’d up my allowance!” Sam countered, turning to Bobby. “Tell him I deserve more than $10 a week, please.”

Bobby grinned and shook his head. “Trust me kid, you do not want me to get involved in your allowance and setting the amount I think kids deserve for doing basic chores around the house they live in.”

Dean chuckled and looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” Sam said and giving a small huff. 

“And since I’m buying lunch,” Bobby continued, “I rule that Dean still owes you a coke for the false jinx.”

Sam grinned and laughed. “Told you!” he said to his brother. 

“Fine, fine,” he said grinning and shaking his head as the waitress approached for their orders.

Once she was gone, he turned his attention back to the older man, he said, “So how did you kill it?”

Walking to the parking lot an hour later, Bobby asked, “Are you sure you boys don’t want to come back to my place for the storm?” Glancing into the gray skies, he shook his head, “It’s going to be nasty tomorrow afternoon and most of Monday.”

Dean glanced at Sam and then shook his head, “We appreciate it but we’re good, thanks. We’ve got plenty of food and candles and batteries and we both have homework to keep us busy.”

“School will be closed on Monday if we get the amount of snow and high wind they’re predicting,” he said, causing them both to grin. Hugging them by at the Impala, he watched them get in before getting into his own truck, wishing that they were coming home with him and knowing he’d worry throughout the weather.

“Blockbusters?” Sam asked with a smile. “Especially if there’s no school on Monday.”

Dean laughed, “Sure, why not. But you have to finish your history paper before Monday, just in case.”

He nodded, “Yeah and that guarantees that we’ll get a snow day.” He laughed, “Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it always works that way,” his brother confirmed. “OK, Blockbusters and the library and then home, right? Need anything else?”

“Nope, I’m good.”

“Ok then, let’s get the show on the road,” he said, putting the car in reverse. He was looking forward to a quiet Sunday and hopefully Monday at home, no errands that had to be run, a chance to get caught up on things and maybe a little ahead in some school projects. “Or maybe I should say snow on the road?”

Sam groaned, “Dean!” Laughing he groaned again and then giggled and said, “I can’t wait to get home because, in this cold, … there’s snowplace like home!” 

Dean laughed and held out his hand for a high five, “That was brilliant, Sammy. Good job.” He laughed again, “You need to tell Bobby that. You can call him and let him know we got home safely and are staying in. I think he’s a little worried.”

“You think?”

He nodded, “Yeah, of course. He cares about us and wants to make sure we’re safe. When you care, you worry, right? You worry about me and I worry about you and we both worry about him.”

“And Dad,” Sam said softly. “I worried about him, a lot, when he was gone.” He paused, “I mean gone on a trip, not gone like now … gone.”

“Me too,” Dean confirmed, checking his mirrors before pulling into the crowded Blockbusters. He had noticed that Sam never said dead or died when they talked about their father, he was always gone or not here, and he silently mulled over if that was an issue they needed to discuss.

“Seems like we’re not the only ones stocking up,” he said with a grin. 

“Lots of disappointed people if the power goes out,” Dean confirmed, getting out of the car. He was suddenly struck again by the sheer normalcy all around them and that they were participating in. “Pick out something, Sam and I’ll pick out something and we’ll see who has the best taste.” 

He laughed and nodded, “Me for sure!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that one.”

Looking up from the stack of towels he was folding that afternoon as the doorbell rang, Dean called, “You in the office?”

“I’ll get it!” Sam said, coming out and glancing through the window by the door. “It’s just Eddie from down the street.”

He made a face, getting up and walking slightly toward the door. Eddie lived a couple of blocks over and was in Sam’s grade. They weren’t in the same classes at school but the closeness of the houses lent itself to easy weekend hang outs. For some reason, the kid struck him as slightly off and he wasn’t thrilled with the budding, albeit, very casual friendship. He had even gone as far as to slip the kid some holy water the second time he had come over, just to be sure. 

“Hi Mr. Winchester,” the kid said, coming into the house after carefully banging the snow off his boots. “How are you today?”

Dean inwardly rolled his eyes, flashing immediately to the Leave It To Beaver character. “I’m great. How are you?”

“We’re going to go out, OK, Dean?” Sam asked, nodding toward the other boy. “Eddie brought a snow tube and we’re going to go over to the slope by the library. There’s a bunch of kids sledding over there.” He grinned, “OK?”

Not thrilled with the idea but knowing there was no real reason to say No, he just nodded. “OK, but be careful, please.” Walking back into the living room, he glanced at the clock on the stove before coming back out to the hall. “And back by 5:00. That’s just under 2 hours, plenty of time. Take your watch so you know what time it is.”

Sam rolled his eyes slightly before catching his brother’s eyes and giving an embarrassed grin, “Sorry. OK, promise.” He glanced at the other kid and said, “Let me get my stuff and I’ll be right back.”

“OK!” Eddie said with a smile. He turned his attention to Dean and said, “My parents want me back by 5:00, too, so we won’t be late, Mr. Winchester.”

“Good,” Dean said. “Do you want some bottles of water or anything to eat? We made cookies yesterday …”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful,” he said, following Dean into the kitchen. 

Packing a plastic sandwich bag with cookies and pulling out two bottles of water, Dean passed the cookies off to the other kid as Sam came down the steps, pulling on his gloves. “5:00, right, Sam?”

He sighed, “Yes, Dean. 5:00.”

Resisting the urge to remind him to be careful again, he simply nodded and handed his brother the two bottles of water. “Have fun, guys.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Winchester,” Eddie said.

“Bye Dean!”

Watching them walk down the driveway and head toward the library, Dean resisted the urge to put on his own coat and boots and trail after them. It was broad daylight, on a Saturday, in a safe family friendly area. It was as safe as possible and he knew he needed to let his brother do the normal, boring stuff that kids did … and just hope that nothing happened and knew that, if it did, it was more likely to be a broken arm than a baku. Settling down on the sofa, he put his feet up on the table and turn on the TV, determined to relax and take advantage of the quiet house.

“I’m home!” Sam called, opening the door almost two hours later.

Glancing at the clock, Dean smiled and stood up. “Perfect timing, Sammy. Thank you.”

He came into the living room, carrying his shoes and dumping them in the mud room before taking off his coat and gloves. Sitting down on the couch, he leaned into his brother. “I’m freezing,” he complained. 

Dean laughed, lowering the volume of the movie he was watching. “That’s because it’s freezing out there, squirt. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “Next winter, we totally need to get one of those tubes. Or maybe even this winter, everyone was saying we’ll have snow through April.”

Dean groaned, “Wonderful. We can keep it in mind, if we’re out and see some, remind me.” He glanced at the clock and said, “Left over Sloppy joes for dinner tonight?”

He nodded, “Yum! I’ll help you cook, if you want.”

“Excellent, thank you.” Dean said. “Why don’t you go upstairs, take a shower, change, warm up, and then come downstairs. We’re not even going to start dinner for an hour or so. You can either help with dinner or at least sit at the table and get started on finishing your history paper.”

Sam groaned, flopping back on the sofa. “We’re not going to have school on Monday, I’m sure of it.”

“Don’t care,” he said, putting his feet back on the table. “Our house rule is that it’s due tomorrow, regardless.”

He made a face and opened his mouth before catching sight of his brother’s expression. “Fine,” he huffed, pushing up from the sofa. “No one else to do homework on a Saturday, especially when there’s no school on Monday.”

“Don’t care,” Dean repeated. Watching his brother struggle with keeping his mouth shut, he held his own tongue. Their father had often immediately jumped on what was probably, in hindsight, normal childish moaning and complaining, shutting it down quickly and firmly. He was determined to allow his brother some wiggle room and to feel that he had a right to complain … as long as it didn’t go too far or on too long. 

With a sigh, Sam said, “Fine.” Then, grinning, he said in a horrible accent, “I’ll be back.”

Dean laughed. “It’s a good think we’ve rented Terminator this weekend so you can practice that impression, Sammy boy, because that was horrible.”

Grinning, he shook his head, “No it wasn’t! Eddie said it was great!”

“Eddie is full of shit and must be totally deaf if he thought that was good,” he countered immediately. 

Sam laughed and shrugged before going upstairs. 

He laughed, settling back on the couch and turning the volume back on his movie. The doorbell rang 20 minutes later and he glanced quickly out the patio door and saw almost complete darkness. “I’ll get it,” he called, muting the TV again. A quick glance through the side windows showed an older man standing on the porch. Recognizing him from the neighborhood, Dean cautiously opened the door. “May I help you?”

He smiled, “Hi, I’m Phil Martin from over on Olive.” He held out his hand, “I know we’ve waved back and forth … I have the big brown mutt, Pogo, that my wife and I walk.”

“Right, Dean Winchester,” Dean said, shaking hands, relieved but not surprised that his pure silver ring didn’t burn the man. “Can I help you with something?” He knew, in a totally polite society, he would invite the man in but he was also too well trained for that. Too many creatures couldn’t cross thresholds unless invited. 

The man shuffled slightly before saying, “You live here alone with a younger boy, right?”

Dean froze for a moment before nodding and giving a small laugh, “Right. I have legal custody of my younger brother.” Pushing for a casual, adult air, he smiled, “He probably has asked to pet your dog. He loves dogs and is always chatting with Monica and … Alice when they are out walking their dog.”

The other man smiled, “Right and he has, which is why ….” He shuffled slightly, “He seems like a good kid and you both have been great neighbors. We really like the planters you put up in front of the windows.”

He smiled, “Thanks.”

“Which is why I thought it was a good idea to come tell you that he and another boy, not sure who the other kid was, were out this afternoon throwing snowballs at cars. They got my wife’s car multiple times while she was driving on the street, scaring her half to death.” His voice was firm as he met Dean’s gaze.

Closing his eyes for a second, resisting the urge to swear, he sighed and held the door open more. “Come on in, Phil. Let me get Sam. And, of course, I appreciate you telling me.”

He nodded, banging the snow off his boots before stepping inside. “I thought you’d like to know.” He smiled slightly, “It’s hard not to notice stuff and how you interact with him … I figured it wouldn’t be something you’d just blow off.”

“No,” he said firmly as he shut the door. “Without a doubt, I’m glad you said something. Come on in.” Leading the way down the hall, he stepped aside to let the other man continue into the living room before stepping closer to the bottom of the stairs and calling, “Sam, come down here now, please.”

Silently appraising the house, Phil slowly filled in the gaps and questions the neighbors had. ‘The Boys’, as the neighbors had collectively settled on calling them, continued to be a bit of a mystery. Mentally comparing the man waiting at the bottom of the steps to his own two sons, he had guessed early 20s, from a distance. Now, seeing him close up, he adjusted that down to very early 20s. The house was neat and clean, nicely furnished but in a slightly sterile way, with little to no clutter or personal knickknacks sitting around. A small stack of mail sat on the kitchen counter, a laundry basket of folded towels and clothes sat on the floor by the sofa, and there were a few pieces of paper stuck on the fridge. Several framed pictures sat on the fireplace mantel … one showed a young family in front of a house, another was of the same man from the first picture and two kids about six or seven years later, all dressed in outdoor hunting clothes. The third frame was turned slightly and he couldn’t see it clearly but it appeared to be just of a couple and he guessed the same couple as in front of the house, probably ‘The Boys’ parents, judging by the ages. He had heard that they had moved from Denver to be near an uncle and, if the oldest brother had custody, that meant the parents were probably no longer living and, judging by the age of the photos, had been gone for several years.

“Coming!”

Dean glanced over at Phil and gave him a small smile as the sound of several thuds came from upstairs and then running feet on the stairs. Holding up his hand as Sam appeared around the bend of the stairs, he said, “Sam …”

He slowed, picking up a clear tone in his brother’s voice and came down the steps carefully. Glancing into the living room, he flushed and immediately looked down at the stairs as he saw the older man standing there.

The look on his brother’s face was all the confirmation he needed and he resisted the urge to swear again. “Come on down, Mr. Martin from down the street brought some upsetting information to me just a minute ago.”

Walking down the last two steps, he paused in front of his brother, glancing up for just a second before sighing slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, allowing himself to be pushed forward to walk in front.

“Mr. Martin told me that you and Eddie were throwing snowballs at cars this afternoon.”

He shifted slightly on his feet before nodding slightly. “It was an accident …”

Dean glanced at Phil before turning his attention back to his brother. “All of them were accidents?”

“No,” he said quietly after a slight pause. Glancing up, he met his brother’s glaze. “Just the first time, we hit a parked car, trying to hit the balls in the air, throwing them across the street and then …”

Dean sighed, “And then what?”

Sam shuffled his feet and said quickly, “Then that got boring so we decided to see if we could hit a car while it was moving but just on the bumper!” He glanced up and shook his head, “We were just aiming for the bumper and didn’t think anyone would notice! The road is all bumpy right now and icy and stuff is getting kicked up from the roads anyway …”

“Mrs. Martin said you hit her car multiple times,” Dean said firmly. “Is your aim that bad or what, Sam?”

He shook his head and looked down at the carpet. “No … I’m sorry.” He swallowed and glanced at his brother again, “It was just fun.”

“It wasn’t fun to Mrs. Martin, who you scared,” Dean said firmly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Glancing at the older man, he swallowed and said in a bit louder voice. “I’m very sorry. We were just fooling around and didn’t think, with all the stuff on the road, that people would notice. I’m sorry I scared her.”

Phil smiled slightly at him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“If it’s OK with you,” Dean said, turning his attention to the other man, “Sam and I will be over in about an hour, so he can apologize directly to your wife.”

He nodded, “Thank you. I think she’d appreciate that.”

Turning his attention to his brother, Dean said, “Go to your room. I’ll be up in a few minutes to finish talking to you about this.”

Sam nodded and all but ran back up the stairs.

Closing his eyes again for a brief second, Dean sighed and turned his attention back to the other man, “Here, let me walk you out. What’s your address again? I know you said over on Olive …”

“Right, 1024 Olive,” Phil said with a smile. “Basically, the next left and then right and two in from the corner. Brick house, dark green door and we’ll leave the front porch light on.” He paused at the door and smiled, “And take it from me … we raised two boys … he seems like a good kid and even good kids do stupid stuff when they are with other kids.”

Dean smiled, “Yeah and you’re right, he is a good kid.” Opening the door, he nodded, “We’ll be over in about an hour.” Closing the door behind their guest and relocking it, he leaned his head on the door and sighed, feeling tired. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly, looking up from his position on his bed. His eyes drifted to the paddle his brother carried into the room and swallowed. “Please don’t paddle me, Dean,” he said, eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry, I promise.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said evenly, patting his brother’s leg. “But that doesn’t change what you did and how serious it was. The police could have been called, Sam, or you or Mrs. Martin could have seriously hurt her. Did you think about that?”

Sam shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

“Get up, take off your jeans and let’s get this over with,” he said evenly.

Slowly rolling off the bed, he hesitated, “Can I keep my jeans on, please?”

Dean shook his head, “No and stop delaying, Sam or I’ll make you take down your underwear, too. You screwed up and there are consequences.”

“Please?”

He frowned, sitting down on the bed, putting the paddle next to him and looked hard at his brother. “One.” Counting until three was one of their father’s long used tactics and they both were fully aware of how much they didn’t want to reach three. 

Slowly unbuttoning his jeans, he let them fall to the floor before stepping out of them and kicking them aside. He stood several feet away and, tears starting to fall, said, “Please, Dean … I’m sorry. Please.”

Holding out his hand, he shook his head and said, “Two.”

Sam took two small steps closer and grasped his brother’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled over his brother’s knees and settled face down on the bed. Folding his hands in front of him, he buried his face in the quilt. 

Forcing himself to not comfort his brother, Dean raised his hand and brought it down in two swift swats across his brother’s butt. “Do we need to talk about what you did, Sam?” He didn’t think they did, clearly the younger boy knew how he had screwed up but their father had always asked them and made them discuss exactly why they were being spanked and he felt that it was important to continue the routine.

“No,” Sam said softly. “We were just fooling around and didn’t think anyone would even notice.”

Dean swatted him again, “Is not thinking it wouldn’t be noticed a good excuse?” Two more hard swats punctuated his question as he shook his head. 

Sam cried, “No! It was still stupid and I’m sorry.”

“She could have gotten hurt, Sam,” he said firmly, swatting his brother’s butt again several times. “Or the police could have been called or you could have gotten hurt. This was beyond stupid and it was dangerous. We don’t call attention to ourselves and certainly not negative attention.” Three more swats punctuated his words. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, crying softy. 

Picking up the paddle, he laid it across his brother’s butt, “Stupid and dangerous is a bad combination. It will always end up with you in this position and in serious trouble. Understand?”

Sam started to cry fully and mumbled, “Yes.”

Dean tightened his hold slightly and began to methodically paddle his brother. Forcing himself to block out Sam’s cries, he concentrated on delivering each swat carefully, overlapping slightly so that the younger boy’s entire butt and upper thighs received equal treatment. Their father had traditionally delivered one swat for each year and, despite Sam’s heartfelt cries, he felt it was important to do the same. Putting the paddle down in less than a minute, he rested his hand on his brother’s head. “Deep breaths, Sam. It’s over.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried.

“I know. Come on,” he said softly, helping him stand up for a moment before moving closer to the head of the bed and laying down, gently pulling them down together.

Immediately moving so that he was curled up slightly against his brother, Sam gripped his shirt and buried his face into his brother’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he said again, between tears. “I’ll never do it again. I just wasn’t thinking about it.”

“I know, you’re OK,” Dean said, silently cursing the fact that he didn’t think to bring up a throw blanket or something to cover them with. Their father had always immediately left the room after a spanking, leaving them alone to calm down for 10 or 15 minutes before revisiting them, reiterating why the punishment had been necessary, and releasing them. That was something he was simply unwilling to do, at least this time. While he may be forced to dole out punishments, he would also always dole out comfort as soon as possible. Getting his hand free, he tugged and pulled the far edge of the quilt up so it at least mostly covered his brother. “Deep breaths, Sam,” he said, softly, kissing his brother’s head. 

Ten minutes later, Sam sighed and said softly, “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“I know,” he repeated, hugging his brother close. “And I bet it’s something you won’t do again.”

“No,” he said simply.

“Good,” Dean said, patting his back. “Come on, let’s get up and you can get dressed so we can walk over to the Martin’s house and you can apologize to Mrs. Martin for scaring her.”

Sam quietly nodded and slowly got up, wincing as his butt made contact with the mattress.

Standing up, Dean hugged him again. “Come down when you’re ready, Sammy.” Going into his own bedroom, he went to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror. Luckily, in the dark it didn’t matter he hadn’t bothered to shave that day. With his still light beard growth, he usually didn’t bother on the weekend unless they were doing something beyond their normal errands. 

Trailing his brother by a couple of steps, Dean waited just off the porch as his brother rang the doorbell 30 minutes later.

A middle age woman opened the door with a small smile. “Hello. May I help you?”

Sam took a deep breath and said, “Hi. My name is Sam Winchester, I live down the street.” He pointed in the general direction of their house and took another deep breath, shuffling slightly. “I wanted to come by and let you know … I mean, to tell you that I’m very sorry for throwing snowballs at your car this afternoon and scaring you.” He swallowed again and shook his head, “That wasn’t my intention, at all, and I’m sorry that you were scared. I mean, I’m sorry that my actions scared you and I’m very sorry for that.” They had discussed what he was saying during the walk over and Dean had been very firm in his directions. Glancing behind him, he felt a bit relieved as his brother nodded at him. 

She smiled at him and nodded, “Thank you so much, Sam. I appreciate your honesty and apology. I understand how things happen and am glad you came by to tell me that wasn’t your intention.” She nodded, “I know you’re a good boy and please, don’t let this stop you from coming over and petting Pogo when you see Mr. Martin or me out walking him. OK? He’d miss you and I’ve always enjoyed our chats.”

Sam smiled at her, nodding, “Thank you for understanding. I’ll see you around, I guess?”

She smiled at him, reaching out and giving him a quick hug. “That sounds good, Sam. Thank you again and have a good night.” She made eye contact with Dean and nodded at him. “Have a good night, too, Dean.”

“Thanks, you too,” he said as he motioned for Sam to follow him. Pulling his brother into a side hug as they reached the street, he rubbed the top of his brother’s head through his hat. “Good job, Sammy. I’m proud of you.”

He sniffled slightly in the cold, bumping against his brother. “Thanks.”

Sensing the boy wanted close contact, he kept his hand on his brother’s shoulder, pulling them close together as they walked home. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Wow,” Sam said, peering out the master bedroom window into their back yard and the blizzard conditions outside Sunday morning. “It’s crazy out there!”

Dean nodded, glancing out the window next to his brother. Bumping against the boy, he said, “Go take a shower, Sammy and wash your hair. If we lose power, we’ll miss the hot water and hair dryer.” He went to bed and started to quickly make it. There had been no question of Sam sleeping alone last night and he hadn’t even pretended that it was going to happen. Instead, just after 9:00, they had gone upstairs and Sam had, without hesitation or question, gone first to his room to take a shower and change and then straight into his brother’s room. He had fallen asleep quickly while Dean read in bed next to him. 

“How are you this morning?” Bobby asked 15 minutes later, picking up on the second ring.

Dean chuckled, glancing in the direction of the stairs. “I’m good, better than last night for sure.” After they had gotten home from the Martins’ house, he had sent Sam back up to his room to think about his actions and then called Bobby to unload.

“Good,” he said. “Like I told you last night, your brother deserved it and you were right to paddle him. He survived, unharmed and lesson learned. Knowing your brother, as good of a kid as he is, it won’t be the last time.”

“I know and Dad would have done worse, for sure. He would have used his belt and there was no way I could have done that.” The two summers before, just after Sam’s 12th birthday, they had been out hunting a ghost that was attacking campers in the woods near the Blue Mountains in Oregon. Their father had salted and laid iron around the camp, leaving strict instructions that Sam wasn’t to leave the camp and to report if he saw anything. Dean vividly remembered coming back into camp and finding it empty, screaming for Sam and John’s relief and then fury when they found him fooling around in a calm swimming area 20 minutes later at a nearby creek. Dean had been sent to get more firewood but could still hear the spanking and then, for the first time, five cracks from John’s belt on his youngest son’s butt and Sam’s cries. 

“No, you did the right thing,” he said firmly. “How’s the weather? I can’t even see the barn here.”

Dean looked through the windows in the dining area and shook his head. “About the same here. I can’t tell how much is actually coming down versus how much is just blowing around.”

“Well, just stay inside. It hit a bit earlier than they were expecting so we’ll see when it ends. Give me a call if you need anything.”

He smiled at the other man’s concern and said, “Will do. Talk to you later.” Hanging up, he smiled as Sam came down the stairs. “Bobby says Hi.” When he saw his brother frown slightly, he said, “I just got off the phone with him, you can call him if you want. I’m going to go take a shower.”

Sam bit his lip slightly and nodded, “Yeah.”

Rubbing his brother’s head as he passed and silently wondering what that was about, he said, “And why don’t you be in charge of breakfast this morning. Maybe cinnamon rolls? We have a can in the fridge.”

He smiled, “I can do that.” He laughed, “That means you have to clean up since I’m cooking.”

Dean nodded, “Deal.”

“How’s the history paper coming?” Dean asked not looking up from his paper as his brother roamed into the kitchen from the office just before lunch. The snow was still coming down hard and the wind hadn’t let up at all. He had been reading and taking notes for a paper they had been assigned on Friday in his Government class. It wasn’t due for several weeks but the idea of getting a jump on it was appealing. He had checked out a couple of books at the library yesterday and he was secretly pleased with his planning. 

“Done!” Sam said happily, opening the refrigerator and looking inside. He sighed and shut the door, leaning on the counter. “Are we going to eat soon? I’m hungry. But will you first proof my paper for me, please?”

He glanced up and smiled, “Happy to. Go print it out for me and I’ll proof it while you cook lunch. Fair?” 

Sam grinned, “Thanks and then, since I’m done with my paper, we can do a movie while we eat lunch?”

“While we eat and then we’ll pause it so you can fix all the mistakes I find,” he said with a grin and then laughed as Sam rolled his eyes. 

“It’s practically perfect, Dean!” Coming over to where his brother sat and looked out the window, “Not that it matters because we’re not going to have school tomorrow. I got an IM from Jason who said the last time they got this much snow, they were off the next day because it took that long to get the roads cleared. And he said it’s going to turn over to ice this afternoon, which is a bigger problem. Their church was closed this morning and is already closed for tonight.”

Glancing at his own work and knowing he was done for the day, he put a marker on the page he was on and nodded toward the office. “Go print your paper and I’ll think about what I want you to make me for lunch, squirt.”

“I hope you want frozen pizza,” Sam countered with a grin, “because that’s what you’re getting.”

Reaching over with a laugh, Dean grabbed his brother around the middle and pulled him close, tickling his sides, “Is that so, Sammy boy? I was thinking a nice filet mignon or pasta primavera.”

Sam screeched, laughing and curling up to protected himself, “Stop it, Dean! And pizza! You’re getting frozen pizza!”

Kissing his brother’s head, he gave him a quick squeeze before releasing him with a sigh, “Will you at least cook it or are you going to just plop it straight from the box onto a plate for me to break a tooth on?”

He giggled, shaking his head and then said in a serious tone, “Well, since my paper is 5 pages, I guess I have time to cook it.”

“Thank you,” Dean said, grinning. “Go, print, bring back, and then get cooking, kid.”

Sam laughed and then gave a salute. “Yes, sir!”

“Careful of your fingers, Sam,” he said quietly ten minutes later, watching his brother grate cheese off a block of mozzarella. He was leaning on the island, gaze alternating between his brother’s paper and the doctoring up of the frozen pizza. 

“I know, I’ve got it.”

Dean smiled, turning back to the paper, “Good. We just don’t want bits of skin mixed in with the cheese.”

Sam laughed, “That’s what ghouls put on their pizzas.”

“And rakshasas,” Dean added easily, not looking up for the paper. “This looks good, Sam.”

He grinned, sliding the pizza into the oven. “Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve done a great job. I’ve heard of Sitting Bull, of course, but didn’t even know he was from around here. I’m horrible with keeping all the Indians straight.”

“Native Americans, Dean,” Sam said with a sigh. “They’re Native Americans or American Indians.”

“Right, right, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “I can never keep all the Native Americans straight.” Pushing the papers toward him, “Here you go, I’ve made a few comments and caught a couple of typos for you. Why don’t you go correct them now before lunch so we don’t have to stop the movie?”

“Will you watch the pizza for me?”

“Scared it’s possessed and is going to run off?”

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes, “No but I don’t want to get accused of not holding up my end of the bargain and feeding you a burnt lunch!”

“Damn straight,” he agreed. “Especially since I did a great job proofing your paper.”

He grinned, as always finding his brother’s swearing funny. “Damn straight!”

The phone rang several hours later and Dean paused the movie while Sam grabbed the phone.

Grinning, he glanced at his brother and said into the phone, “Hold on, please. He’s right here.” Not bothering to put his hand over the receiver, he grinned and said in a loud sing songy voice, “Dean, there’s a girl on the phone for you.”

He took the phone and shot his brother a look, hand now firmly over the receiver, “Why don’t you go get us some ice cream. With warmed hot fudge sauce, please.”

“You want hot hot fudge sauce?” Sam asked, grinning, and then laughed, jerking his leg out of the way as his brother kicked him lightly. 

“Go,” he said with a smile. “Hello?” he asked into the phone, watching his brother get up and head into the kitchen.

Jen giggled, “Was that Sam?”

He sighed, “Yes and he thinks he’s funny and is loving the fact that a girl is calling me.”

“Well, I’m glad to know that it’s such a rare occurrence that it made an impression,” she said with another laugh. “I won’t keep you too long but I wanted to make sure you got the notice that schools are closed tomorrow. My mom is on the weather phone tree and we just got the call a few minutes ago.” She paused, “I wasn’t sure what number they would have for you.”

“Oh cool,” he said with a smile. “And no, no clue about a phone tree. I thought it would be announced on the news or something.”

“It will be but the phone tree moves quicker, I think,” she confirmed. “So, what are you doing today?”

Glancing behind him into the kitchen, Dean saw Sam scooping out ice cream. “Just watching a movie and eating ice cream.”

“Sounds like fun! I’m helping my mom clean out her closet … not so fun, let me tell you. But she likes to do projects around the house and I think her boyfriend might be moving in as soon as I leave for college … so …”

He was silent for a moment, unsure what to say to that. Finally, he asked, “Did you decide where you’re going?” They had discussed it before and he knew that she had been accepted to multiple places.

“I think I’ve settled on Carleton,” she said, “it’s just south of Minneapolis and near my father’s family. He went there.”

“Right, I remember you saying that,” he said. “I bet he’s happy.”

She laughed, “He’s happy they are very generous with their scholarships and tuition breaks for legacies.” She sighed, “My mom is calling for me so I’ll let you get back to your movie but I hope school is open again on Tuesday and we can go for potato skins again. I had fun this past Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Me too,” he said, only lying slightly. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Take one, please, and pass the rest back,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said the next Wednesday during Dean’s Government class. “Permission slips are due back March 14, so not this Friday but the next one, and we’ll be going to Pierre on the 21st. It’s about a 3 hour trip, so it will be a full day. The busses will leave at 7:00am sharp and get you back here around 8:00pm.” Glancing around the room, she smiled, “We’ll have a great trip. This fall, the group …”

Dean knew she was continuing to talk and hype up the trip. In the back of his mind, he knew it was coming and was a standard senior trip. All the Seniors went to visit the state capital, met the Governor, and took a tour during the semester they took Government. He had avoided thinking about the reality though until now and he knew it was something he couldn’t face. 

“Coming?”

He glanced up, jerking his attention away from the paper in front of him, surprised to see Jen standing up in front of his desk and the class clearing out. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I didn’t hear the bell ring.”

She grinned, “Thinking about your tie jacket shirt combination for your grip and grin photo with Governor Janklow?” She laughed and shook her head, “Personally, I can’t wait. I’ve never seen you in anything but jeans and sweaters and pull overs.” 

Forcing himself to smile, he stood up and laughed. “I’m thinking I may go black tie for the occasion.”

Jen laughed and nodded, “That will certainly class up the trip! And give everyone something to talk about beyond spring break plans.” Walking with him out the door, she said, “Are you planning something fun for spring break next month?”

“Yeah,” he said distractedly and then smiled at her, stopping just outside the classroom. “Sorry, I need to ask Mrs. Fitzgerald something. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, OK?”

She nodded, “Sounds good. And we’re still on for tomorrow afternoon?”

“Of course!” he said quickly. “I’m looking forward to it.” Glancing around, he leaned in and gave her a very quick kiss, knowing that the forbid contact would smooth over any hurt feelings caused by his brush off. 

“Dean!” she gasped, blushing and looking around as she grinned and shook her head. “Go, before you get us both in trouble.”

“Can I ask you a quick question, Mrs. Fitzgerald?” Dean said, stepping back into the classroom. 

The middle age women glanced up and smiled, “Of course, Dean. What can I do for you for you?” 

Stepping closer to her desk, he took deep breath and said, “It’s about the trip to Pierre in a couple of weeks …”

“Is there a problem getting the permission slip signed?” she asked quietly when he didn’t continue. Her student had been an ongoing subject of discussion among his teachers and the administrators and she was always happy to report that his grades were excellent. His teachers all liked him and the general consensus was that he was doing good, staying on track, had excellent grades, even though he often looked tired and stressed. 

He shook his head, “No, no, that’s fine. My uncle is happy to sign.”

She smiled, “Good.” She knew his file said that he was living with an uncle since the death of his father in November and she was glad to hear that situation hadn’t changed in the last few months.

“If I’m going to go on the trip, I need to drive my car though,” he said quickly. “I can’t ride the bus.” He took a deep breath and smiled at her, “Is that going to be a problem?”

Frowning, she nodded, “Unfortunately, yes. School policy is that for school trips, the school provides transportation and everyone goes together.” She smiled at him, “We can’t have everyone deciding it’s more fun to drive themselves … the coordination would just be a nightmare. I’m sure you understand.”

He nodded, “OK. I understand that and figured that was the case.” Shrugging, he gave her a small smile, “The school I was at last year had a similar policy and I figured that was probably the same here. Does it matter that I’m 18 and legally an adult?”

She laughed and shook her head, “Nope, sorry. The policy applies to everyone.” She laughed again and held up her hands, “Even teachers and parents who are chaperoning! I’ll be on the bus and so will Principal Rhinehart and whoever else gets roped into going.” She smiled, “It’ll be more fun than you think.”

He nodded, “OK. Thanks, I thought I’d just ask and double check.”

“Never hurts to ask,” she said with another smile. She had heard good things about him from his other teachers last term and found she liked him, too. He was quiet and respectful but also smart and disarmingly charming when he spoke. He rarely volunteered in class but when she called on him, he always knew the answer, easily adding to the discussions, and turned in well written and researched papers.

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Thanks for taking the time to chat with me. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Bye Dean,” she said as he started toward the door. “Everyone has a great time, you will too!”, she called as he paused in the door.

“Oh, no,” he said giving her a small smile and shook his head. “I told you, I can’t ride the bus and if I was going, I was going to need to drive.” He shrugged, “But it’s fine. I understand about rules and policies and stuff.” Not waiting for a reply or reaction to his matter of fact statement, he left.

OOooOOooOOoo

“Go say Hi when you get the mail,” Dean said quietly, glancing at his brother on Friday as he shut the car off in the garage.

Sam blushed, “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Say Hi, ask to pet Pogo and ask how their week was. You can ask if they had any problems with the storm last weekend or if they are doing anything fun this weekend.”

“Dean …”

Reaching over, he ruffled his brother’s hair and gave his shoulder a gently squeeze. “It’s OK, Sammy. They want you to go over and say Hi, I promise. Remember what Mrs. Martin said after you apologized?”

The younger boy nodded and swallowed before getting out of the car and slowly making his way down the driveway. The snow from the weekend storm had been pushed off to the sides by the plow and snow blowers but the yard was still covered in over a foot. 

Getting out of the car and casually pausing before opening the back door to grab their bookbags, he saw his brother slowly approach their mailbox and then say Hi to the Martins who were across the street walking their dog. He had a sneaking suspicion the couple had timed their walk to when he and Sam usually got home. He smiled as he saw Sam glance both ways before walking to the other side of their street and bend down to pet the bouncing mutt. Grabbing both of their bookbags, he nodded and smiled as he caught their eye.

Mrs. Martin smiled broadly at him before turning her attention back to Sam.

Kicking off his shoes in the laundry room, he dropped their bookbags on the floor by the island and hit the play button of their answering machine. 

“Hey boys,” Bobby’s voice said over the line, “hope you had a good day at school. Dean, give me a call when you have a few quiet moments. Talk to you soon.”

“Was that Bobby?” Sam asked, coming inside and dropping the mail on the island.

“Yeah,” he said. “Anything in the mail?”

Sam laughed, “Junk, junk, coupons for pizza, and a catalog for seeds.” He grinned at his brother, “Can we get some seeds and grow stuff this summer? And since we got a coupon, can we do pizza tonight?”

Dean looked at him for a second before asking, “Do you want to try to grow something? And no to the pizza, we have leftovers to eat and I’m sure you’re having pizza tomorrow night at Jason’s.” The idea of planting stuff had honestly never crossed his mind and they had never been any place long enough to even consider it.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“OK, keep the catalog then,” he said. “I’m going to go call Bobby back from the office. We’ll look through it and talk about it later, OK?”

Sam grinned, “Thanks.” Picking up his bookbag, he said, “Oh and I think you were right. Pogo was really happy to see me and Mr. and Mrs. Martin were nice, too.” 

“Good,” Dean said, bumping against his brother as he passed him. “And good job, Sammy. They’re our neighbors and it’s important. You screwed up but you apologized and made it right and they appreciated it.”

He blushed and nodded, “Yeah and they didn’t say anything about last weekend.”

“Of course not,” he said, giving his brother a quick hug before walking into the office and shutting the door. Dialing Bobby’s number, he smiled as the other man picked up. “Hey Bobby, how are you?”

“I’m good. How are you and Sam?”

“Sam’s good,” he said with a smile, spinning slightly in the desk chair. “The neighbors that he had a problem with last weekend were out walking their dog and I made him go over and say Hi and pet the dog like he normally would. He didn’t want to but did and just came into the house and told me that I was right and they were happy to chat with him.” He laughed, “So score one for the older brother who might just know what he’s doing.”

Bobby laughed, “Good for you and you do know what you’re doing.”

He laughed, “Thanks. Do you want to go over bills already for the month? I didn’t think we’d do that until next week?” Reaching over, he grabbed the envelope where he kept their receipts and his tally sheet of what they spent. Bobby was still paying all their bills but they sat down every month to review everything and discuss the budget and expenses. “I’ve got everything right here though …”

“No,” Bobby said, “it’s not that.” He sighed, “I got a call from your school’s guidance counselor, a Mrs. Whitehall, today and I want to talk to you about it but in person, without Sam.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dean said quickly, sitting up.

“It’s about some school trip to Pierre in a couple of weeks,” he said. “She told me you told your teacher you wouldn’t go.”

Dean sighed, “Well, yes but it’s a fun trip. It’s not like for a grade or anything and it’s a more complicated situation than that. And it’s not like I just crossed my arms and yelled that I wasn’t going to go or anything like that.”

He laughed, “I’d hope not, kid. But still, I want to talk to you about it and she wants to meet about it first part of next week.

“Fuck,” Dean swore softly.

“Excuse me?” Bobby said firmly. 

“No, no,” he said quickly, back peddling. “Not at you…”

“I know not at me but you still shouldn’t swear and she’s just doing her job, boy. She deserves respect and not for you to be swearing about her.”

He was careful to hide his sigh, saying instead, “Yes, sir.” Pausing for a minute he said, “It’s really not a big deal, Bobby. I’ll tell her on Monday we talked and it’s fine and I’ll go. There’s no need to meet or anything.”

The older man was silent for a moment before saying, “Do you think there’s a snowball’s chance in hell I’m buying that, boy? Sam can stay by himself for a few hours Saturday or Sunday and we’re going to talk about it in person. Or you boys can come here and we’ll go work in the garage together while he does something in the house. Your choice.”

“Bobby … come on. Please? This is …” Dean started.

“Do you want me to come over tonight and discuss with you now? Trust me, boy, you do not want to take that option.”

He swallowed and shook his head, “No, sir.” Sighing and knowing the fight was already lost, he said, “Sam is actually going to a birthday party tomorrow afternoon and then staying at his friend’s house after the party. Do you want me to come over to your place or you want to come here?”

“Why don’t I come over and go out to lunch with you boys and then we’ll drop Sam off and chat.”

Dean nodded, “OK. We were going to go to Glenn’s to shoot before lunch. You want to meet us there or come here first?”

“Bobby is going to meet us at Glenn’s tomorrow and we’re going to try that new sandwich place downtown on Phillips,” Dean said, glancing up from the small bowl of carrots he was stirring an hour later. 

Sam grinned, “Fun! And then I have to be at the bowling place at 3:00.”

He nodded, “Yep. I’ll drop you off. I think Bobby and I are just going to hang out and watch basketball and he’s going to show me how he’s filing the taxes for Dad.” He smiled at his brother, “See what fun and excitement you’re going to miss?”

Sam laughed, leaning against the counter. “I’m very sorry I’m going to be at Jason’s party then and miss it.” Watching his brother dump the carrots into a baking sheet, he asked quietly, “Can I tell you something?”

Glancing up, Dean nodded, “Of course, dude. We can talk about anything and no secrets, right? Wasn’t that your rule?” He opened the oven door and pushed the pan inside next to the small casserole dish before setting the timer. “We’ve got 25 minutes. What’s up?” Closing the door, he leaned against counter next to his brother and bumped against him gently.

He sighed and leaned against Dean, bumping against him.

Pulling him close, Dean hugged him and ruffled his hair. “We can talk about anything, Sammy.” After several long moments of silence, he said, “Or, we don’t have to if you’ve changed your mind. We can go sit on the couch and watch the news together until dinner is ready.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, pushing back from the counter and moving to the living area. 

Following him, Dean sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. He smiled as Sam sat down next to him and he moved his arm so his brother was curled up slightly against him. His mind instantly flashed to their first night at the house after moving from Bobby’s and he hugged his brother tightly for a moment before pretending to watch the news.

“I miss Dad,” Sam said quietly several minutes later.

Picking up the remote, Dean lowered the tv volume. “Of course you do,” he said. “I do too, every day. It’s normal and we’ll probably miss him in one way or the other, the rest of our lives.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah … but …” He paused and took a deep breath before saying in a quieter voice. “I don’t miss him like I think I’m supposed to miss him.”

“How do think you’re supposed to miss him?” he asked after a long beat.

“Like more,” Sam said softly. “Like, I told Bobby on Sunday, after I got in trouble with you, that I was glad Dad wasn’t around because he would have been a lot madder but I’m not really glad but I’m not sure I’m sad enough. And I told him that I was happy we were living here even if I got into trouble because I had a lot of fun on Saturday and I like my school and I like my friends and it’s been nice to be at the same school all year. I know that if Dad was here, it wouldn’t be like this at all and I miss him but I’m also glad to be here with you. But I feel like I shouldn’t be glad about that because it’s like being glad Dad is gone.”

Feeling way over his head, he bit back a sigh and instead pulled his brother close. “I understand, Sammy. I totally get it.” He paused for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted to say, before finally saying, “I feel the same way, sort of.”

“Do you?” he asked, twisting slightly to look at his brother.

“Sure, of course,” he said with a nod. “I miss Dad every day but … it was also just you and me so often that ….” He shrugged, “It also feels normal too. So, being glad we’re together and that we have a great house and friends and are enjoying school doesn’t mean we don’t miss Dad. It just means that …” He paused again, honestly not sure what it meant or how to give voice to the thoughts that whirled around his head late at night. 

“Maybe it just means it’s normal,” Sam said quietly. “We can have both feelings and they don’t cancel each other out, even though it sort of seems like they should cancel each other out.”

Dean smiled and hugged him again, “Exactly, Sammy. This is our uniquely normal and we’re OK with that. We can both be glad for how things turned out and still wish Dad were here and enjoying this great set up with us.”

“Yeah because I think he would have liked this house a lot.” He was quiet for a minute and said, “Maybe if he had been OK with being normal or only hunting part time or something … maybe if Mom had just died in a regular fire and Dad didn’t …” His voice trailed off and he swallowed.

His own mind filled in the silence, ‘If only Dad hadn’t gone crazy … wanting revenge or obsessing or preparing them or protecting them or unable to move on, unable to see what he had instead of focusing on what he didn’t have and them all paying the price for that …’ Instead he nodded, “Yeah, I think he would have liked this house a lot, too. And he would love to see you in your play next month and meet your friends but we play the hand we’re dealt and only fools try to cut deals for better hands, right?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, there’s no such thing as a good deal in the end. I’m just glad we’re together and you’re OK with being normal.” Laughing, he said, “Or I guess really, uniquely normal.”

Dean laughed, kissing the top of his head, “Me too, Sam. Me, too.” 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Sam’s gotten better,” Glenn said as he and Bobby stood outside the range watching the younger boy shoot several arrows in a row. “I don’t know that he’ll ever match Dean but he’s gotten better this year.”

Bobby smiled, “He has and it’s good to see him enjoying himself. His father was a good teacher but Dean is better.” He smiled as Dean high-fived his brother after the 5th arrow. 

“More patient, for sure,” Glenn said. Turning his attention to Bobby, he said, “I wanted to run something by you before I brought it up to Dean.”

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, shifting slightly so he could look at the other man.

“You know I make knives and arrowheads. I also sharpen them and a bunch of other stuff for people and companies as a side business.”

Bobby nodded, “Yeah, you did a great job on the arrowheads I needed several years ago.”

He laughed, “Blew my mind when you started explaining after I was stupid enough to ask questions on why you needed real silver tipped arrowheads.” He grinned as the other man shrugged. “But, in the summer I run a stand at the Farmers’ Market over near the falls and could use some help. I had another kid helping me the last couple of years, taking orders, handling payments, keeping the customer flow going while I’m sharpening stuff. People drop off their stuff to be sharpened while they shop so it’s pretty much non-stop and I can’t do both. The other kid decided to stay at college over in Boise this summer and I was wondering about asking Dean if he wanted a job but wanted to check with you first.”

Nodding, Bobby smiled, “Sure. I think he’d like it and it would be good for him in the summer, earn a bit of his own money and I bet he’d enjoy it. I’m kind of surprised you thought of him though, you don’t know him that well.”

“No but I’ve seen enough of him for the last couple of years and these last 6 months or so watching him with Sam has shown me a lot. And, to tell you the truth,” he said, pausing for a second before saying, “since I did those special arrows for you, not all my customers have been strictly home cooks and hair stylists. I get more than my fair share of special blades and spears and some wild ass stuff that I think was starting to freak Brian, my previous kid, out a bit. And that side of the business is growing, which I don’t mind at all.”

Bobby laughed, “Well, I can’t imagine anything you handle will freak Dean out. He’s too well-seasoned for that. He might even be able to give you some tips on how things are being used to help you figure out how best to sharpen some of the stuff.”

He nodded, “Good, I was hoping you’d be OK with me asking him.”

“Do me a favor though,” Bobby said after a moment.

“Sure, what?”

“Don’t ask in front of Sam, especially if you’re going to be talking about anything … non-home cook related. Sam’s fully aware but …” He paused, searching for the right words. “He’s fully aware but also really wants them out of the life and to be 100% normal. Dean will handle how much – if anything – he tells Sam about your side business but let him handle it and don’t you bring it up in front of Sam.”

Glenn nodded, “Sure and I get that. He’s just a kid, after all.”

The other man nodded, “Exactly.” Reaching out to the counter near them, Bobby grabbed a pen and piece of paper and jotted down Dean’s phone number. “Here you go, I’ll give him a heads up but just call whenever you want.”

“Thanks, appreciate it, Bobby.”

“I’ll be back in about 45 minutes,” Dean said coming into the living room. “Sure you don’t want to come?”

Bobby looked up from the sofa and smiled. “No thank you. A bunch of screaming kids at a bowling alley sounds like a nightmare to me.” He studied the other man now freshly shaven and dressed in dark jeans and a red sweater instead of the faded sweatshirt he had been wearing earlier and said, “You cleaned up nicely.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I try to look a bit more presentable when I see Sam’s friends’ parents, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Got to keep up the Responsible Adult façade and all that.” Swallowing, he lowered his voice, “I guess you’re still not buying me telling Mrs. Fitzgerald that I’ll go on the trip in a couple of weeks and letting this whole personal chat thing drop? We could just order pizza and watch basketball.”

“Not a chance in hell, boy,” he said firmly. “You want to try selling it to me again or do you want to just do as I say and talk about it with me?”

Dean gave him a small smile before saying, “I look forward to our discussion.”

“Good.”

Giving him a shrug, he said, “Just thought I’d check.” Turning his head and taking two steps toward the stairs, he called, “Get a move on it, Sam or you’re going to be late!”

“Coming! Coming!”

Dean smiled as Sam came running down the stairs a moment later carrying his duffle bag. “Your present is sitting on the counter, don’t forget to grab it, please.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know, Dean. I’m not stupid.”

Holding up his hands, he said, “Fine, Sammy, just trying to be helpful. Don’t want you to end up in the gutter with your friends.” He laughed as his brother sighed and rolled his eyes. Glancing at Bobby, he shrugged and said, “See you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit,” Bobby said with a nod. “Have fun, Sam!”

“I will! Bye!”

Sitting down on the sofa an hour later, Dean glanced at the older man and sighed, putting his head back and closing his eyes. 

“Tired?” he asked.

“A bit,” he confirmed, rolling his head to one side so he could look at Bobby and smiled. “But no more than usual. It’s fine, I’m glad it’s the weekend.” 

Bobby studied him for a moment before saying, “So give me the low down on this trip, what you said to your teacher, what you’re thinking … lay it out for me, kid.”

He sighed and sat up, shaking his head. “Honestly, Bobby, it’s no big deal. Dad wouldn’t care about it, so I’m not sure why you do.”

Carefully picking his words, he said slowly, “First off, I don’t believe that your dad wouldn’t have cared about this …”

“OK, fine,” he said, interrupting. “He would have cared but only about getting a call and me causing problems and calling attention to ourselves.”

Ignoring the interruption and not wanting to comment on his feelings over John’s handling of various parental duties, Bobby continued, “And second, I want to know what’s going on with you and in that head of yours.” Reaching out, he gently bumped the other man’s shoulder, “It’s important to me; you are important to me even if you don’t like to hear that.” 

Dean squirmed slightly and smiled. “I appreciate it.”

“Good, so spill it, kid.”

He sighed and shrugged, “You know I’m taking Government, right? It’s a requirement for all Seniors. You take Economics one semester and Government the other.” 

Bobby smiled, “Yes, I see your report cards every six weeks. You got an A in Economics this fall and should still have an A in Government judging by your report card a couple of weeks ago.”

“I do,” he confirmed with a smile. “So … every class goes to visit the state capital, meets the Governor, takes a tour, meets other people, whatnot. It’s a standard thing and everyone who has Government that semester goes, so like … half the senior class.” He shrugged, “It’s not for a grade or anything.”

Waiting a long beat for the younger man to continue, Bobby said, “OK … and …?”

Dean shrugged again, “And nothing really.”

“Are you deliberately testing me, boy?”

“No!” he said and shrugged again. “Fine.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “I want to drive, I need to drive, and not ride the bus if I’m going to go. I asked Mrs. Fitzgerald and she said it was against policy so I said OK, I understood and wasn’t surprised.” Waving his hand slightly, he shrugged again, “She said I’d still have fun and I just repeated what I told her earlier … that if I was going to go, I need to drive my car and not ride the bus and if I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t go on the trip. That’s it. No big deal and certainly no reason to call you and bitch. It’s unfair for her to complain when I wasn’t complaining.”

Bobby stared him, wondering not for the first time how parents managed to figure out which issues in a kid’s statement to tackle and which to just ignore. Deciding to ignore the complaints over unfairness, he went to the heart of the issue. “I’m confused on why you can’t ride the bus,” he said. “You rode the bus multiple times a week this fall before your father died and you’ve ridden it in other years when you and Sam stayed with me. What’s the problem now?”

Looking away, Dean shrugged but stayed quiet.

“I’ve got all night, kid,” he said quietly when the other man didn’t say anything. Moving closer on the sofa, he pulled him into a tight hug. “Talk to me, Dean. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“I can’t be stuck in Pierre,” he said quietly, leaning into the hug. “I can’t be trapped there if Sam needs me and if I rode the bus, I would be. I wouldn’t have my car and that means I’d have to steal one but then explain how I got back and gee … missing car from the same area I go missing in that just happens to end up by back, I tend to think even the most Barney Fife of police officers could figure that one out.” He laughed and shook his head before saying, “I can’t risk it, no stupid trip for school is worth it.”

Inwardly Bobby sighed, not shocked that Dean’s reluctance had something to do with Sam but also saddened to hear the honest, matter of factness in the other man’s voice. “OK, so let’s talk about this.”

“Do we have to?”

He laughed, “Yes, we have to, idjit.” Pulling back slightly he looked at him and shook his head. “First off, when was the last time Sam needed you during the day?”

“That’s not the point, Bobby,” he said, pulling totally back and shaking his head. “You don’t put down a salt line or paint a devil’s trap before the second attack, do you?” Sitting back on the sofa, he held out his hands slightly, “I have to be prepared, I can’t just keep my fingers crossed and hope. Dad trusted me not to screw up and I can’t screw up again.” He shook his head again, looking away, “You have no idea how many times I’ve screwed up and just gotten lucky. I’m trying to be better. I have to be better; Sam deserves for me to be better.”

Immediately flashing back to the conversation just before Christmas in Dean’s room, Bobby sighed and shook his head. “You are an amazing brother, Dean. Any mistakes you’ve made, and I’m taking your word that you’ve even made some because I haven’t seen it, were just mistakes and not the massive, life changing screw ups that you seem to think they are.” Reaching over, he tapped the other man’s leg, “You haven’t just gotten lucky that nothing has happened to either one of you; you’re smart and you’re good and you plan. Sure, there’s a bit of luck involved but that’s life … life is built on luck to some degree and you can’t control that.” He grinned, “Or at least not without taking on some really bad mojo and just asking for it to bite you in the butt.”

He laughed, the defensive tension in his shoulders lessening slightly as he said, “Yeah.”

“We’re going to keep working on you believing that you’re much better than you think,” Bobby said firmly, ignoring the eye roll from the younger man. “Tell me what you think would happen if you were out of town for a full 12 hours and Sam … forgot his lunch money?”

“Or got sick or hurt or something attacked the school or him,” Dean shot back, annoyance clear in his voice. “His lunch money is loaded on a card I pay for every month, so I’m a bit more concerned with something that wants to hurt him than that.”

Biting his tongue to stop himself from barking at him, Bobby said, “OK, so what do you think would happen?” When Dean glanced away and shook his head, he continued, “Do you think your smart as a whip brother might possibly think to call me for help? And that maybe I can take care of any problem you can take care of boy? And, dare I say it, but can also take care of some problems that you’ve never even thought of? You might know your dad’s journal backwards and forwards and god knows you’re a good hunter but you’re also still pretty wet behind the ears. I’ve seen and hunted and killed things that you don’t even know exist.” He heard his frustration in his voice and consciously forced himself to stop and lower his voice. “I’ve told you before and I will keep telling you, Dean and maybe one of these days it will finally sink in. I love you and Sam both like my own; I care about him as much as you do, and I will do everything in my power to keep him – and you – safe.” Moving closer, he pulled the stiff younger man into a tight hug as he said, “You have to believe me when I tell you that this isn’t all on you. It’s OK to trust me.”

“I do trust you, Bobby,” he said quietly. “I do, I promise.”

“I know, kid and that means a lot to me and you’ve shown me how much you trust me. So, keep trusting me and I know that even on the off, slim, microscopic chance that something happens in those 12 hours you are out of town, I can take care of it.” Feeling the older man relax into his hug, he kissed the top of his head, “I keep telling you, it’s not all on you and your shoulders. I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Bobby.”

Falling silent but not moving, he once again wondered if he had made a mistake in letting them move out of his house and what the pressure was doing to Dean. 

Several long minutes later, Dean said quietly, “It’ll be OK. I can do it.”

“You can,” he confirmed. “And you’ll have a great time.”

“I got through middle school and that was a hellish three years but luckily we moved a lot so I could skip a lot and it didn’t cause too many problems.”

Not understanding the reference, Bobby shifted slightly and looked at him. “What do you mean? What was so bad about middle school?”

He sighed, “For some reason, typically elementary schools get out first, then high school and then middle school. It was OK when I was in elementary school with Sam. But … once I moved to 6th grade and middle school, it was bad.” He fell silent for a moment before saying, “Dad had to arrange for after school care but that was expensive and we usually didn’t have the extra money. Even the cheap programs or private babysitters were sometimes too expensive and then picking him up was a problem because it’s not like they would let me do it and if Dad was gone …” He shrugged again, “So Sam had to ride the bus home alone and let himself in to wherever we were living. Depending on where we were living at the time, that could be a little rough. I wouldn’t get home for another 90 minutes or 2 hours, sometimes. The best was in really small towns because the schools were usually together and everyone got out at the same time. Once I told Dad that, he tried to stick to small towns but that didn’t always work.” He chuckled, “We moved a lot some years and if I knew we weren’t going to be there long, it was easy to skip out early. If we were in a really rough part of town or a hotel, I would also just not go at all so I could get Sam safely to school and then pick him up. Dad use to get so mad because the school would call and leave a message and half the time, he wasn’t home, of course, so it really didn’t matter.”

“Of course,” Bobby said quietly, thinking back to those early years. He had known John and the boys then and had a suspicion that things were rough but hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about it. His friendship with John was too tenuous at that point and the other man had made it very clear that questioning his actions with his sons was off limits. It had taken many more years of visits before Bobby had begun to make his thoughts known. 

Lost in the memory, he said, “But I made it work and we got through it. I can make this work, too.”

“This trip isn’t meant to be something you endure or power through, Dean,” Bobby said after a long moment, feeling the conversation had quickly done a 180 degree turn from good to bad. 

“No, no,” he said quickly, jerking himself away as if suddenly brought back to the present. Shaking his head, he smiled, “Sorry. I get it and I know what you mean. I trust you and I know you’ll take care of Sam if he needs help.”

Feeling as if he was being fed a line, Bobby studied him before cautiously nodding. “OK, I guess that’s settled then. I’ll call your guidance counselor on Monday and tell her that we talked and it’s taken care of.” Privately vowing to follow up, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was making a big mistake … another thing he wondered how parents dealt with. 

“What are you going to tell her?” he asked cautiously.

Reaching over, he grabbed the other man and began rubbing the top of his head, “That I tortured you and beat you until you agreed to go on your Fun Filled Class Fieldtrip!”

Dean laughed and tried to squirm away, suddenly feeling very young. “No, you’re not,” he protested between laughs.

“No, of course not,” Bobby said, giving him a final hug before kissing the top of his head again and letting him go. “I’ll just tell her we talked about being a team player and going along with the rules. And how you understand that now, and before didn’t think that not going on the trip was that big of a deal. I’ll reminder her that you just moved here and did a similar trip last year when you were in Colorado.” 

Dean sighed and nodded. “Thanks Bobby.” Shifting slightly, he moved closer to the other man and closed his eyes as he was pulled close.

“I’ll always have your back, kid,” he said quietly. “One of these days it’s going to sink in that it’s not all on you.”

Unsure why tears suddenly formed in his eyes, he kept them closed and just nodded again. 

OOooOOooOOoo

Staring at the permission slip laying on the counter the next Thursday, Dean scowled. True to his word, Bobby had called the guidance counselor and spoke with her. The woman had referenced the call when she requested a meeting on Tuesday afternoon. He had shown up on time, rushed as usual, and silently endured listening to her understanding thoughts on having to follow rules that didn’t make sense, visit a Governor that was new to him, and learn about a state that may not quite feel like home yet. He had done as his father had drilled into him: listened politely, nodded, agreed, and thanked for the concern while, at the same time, reassuring the Concerned Authority Figure that everything was OK, under control, and he greatly appreciated their actions and thoughts. 

Jen had appreciated the meeting because the delay in leaving gave her the excuse she had been waiting for. Instead of going to a restaurant, she had suggested just getting cokes and sitting in the car at Spencer Park. She had quickly taken advantage of the bench seat and isolated location to kiss him deeply, hand going to his crotch and giving him an evil grin as he groaned and gave a very weak protest. Her grin had turned honest as his hand had slip up her sweater and undid her bra a moment later. 

“What’s that?”

Jerking his mind back to the present and away from the feel of Jen’s hands on his cock on Tuesday, Dean glanced at his brother coming into the kitchen before looking away, trying to hide his flushed face. “Just a stupid permission slip for R. Singer to sign.”

Sam smiled at their shared joke, “Does Bobby know?”

Dean laughed, “Yeah, he does. Speaking of which … tell me what you want, Sammy…”

“A dog!” Sam said immediately, with a smile.

He rolled his eyes, “We’re not getting a dog. I’ve got a stupid fieldtrip next Friday and it’s going to be an early morning, late night thing. Do you want to spend Thursday night at Bobby’s or do you want him to spend the night here Thursday and maybe Friday night? I’ll be back into town around 8:00 and can pick you up at his house, if you’re there, Friday night. He’ll drive you to school and pick you up on Friday.” He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Sam spending the night at Bobby’s without him but he also knew the older man worried about his phone bank if he wasn’t at his house. 

Sam shrugged, “I don’t care. It’s probably easier if I just spend the night at Bobby’s. And he’s got some cool books I can look at for a translation project I’ve got to do for Latin class. It’s due after spring break.”

“Just be careful and run anything you look at by Bobby, OK?” He grinned, bumping against his brother, “We don’t want to blow our cover.”

He laughed, “You mean I should stick maybe with the ancient myth books and not the conjuring or banishment spells?”

“Yes, for sure,” he agreed. “And run of the mill myths, nothing too out there. Think Virgil, not Rituale Romanum.”

Sam grinned, “I bet I can find something really cool. Much cooler than stupid Virgil. Where’s your class trip?”

He sighed, pushing away from the counter. “Pierre.” Moving to the refrigerator, he pulled out several containers and brought them back to the island. “Will you please turn the oven on to 400 for me? And grab the white baking dish, please.”

He nodded moving toward the cabinets and stove, “Are you going to the Capital or something else?”

Opening several of the containers, Dean grabbed a spoon and began to quickly mix the ingredients for tuna noodle casserole. They had prepped the ingredients on Sunday and split it in half, keeping everything separate so it could be mixed up fresh and ready to bake. Watching it quickly come together made him smile at their system running smoothly. “The Capital,” he said as Sam put the dish down next to him. “We’re even meeting the Governor.”

“Really? That’s kind of neat,” he said, moving back to the island and watching brother cook. “Rolls?”

He nodded, “Yeah but this takes 30 minutes and those take 12 … so when should we put them in?”

Sam groaned and laughed, bumping against his brother. “Really Dean? Basic math?”

He laughed, reaching over and messing his brother’s hair. “Sorry squirt, old habits die hard. And hey, it was a great way to teach you stuff.”

“I remember,” he said with a smile. “Do you remember that one place … I don’t know where, we weren’t there long. The kitchen of the house we were in only had a tablespoon to measure stuff but we didn’t know that until after Dad had left. We figured out how to make a half-cup mark line with a piece of tape on a glass because you knew that there were 16 tablespoons to a cup from this sheet of paper you had.”

Dean smiled, “Yep, I remember that. And I remember spending a couple of days with you playing with that stupid tablespoon going up and down and halving it, multiplying it, and whatnot. It was a great math lesson!” His mind instantly flashing to the scene when he was in 5th Grade and the reality of John dropping them off at the house with some money before he raced off to save someone or hunt something. The TV hadn’t worked, the nearest grocery store was two miles away, it had rained for the two straight days John had been gone. He had created his Knowledge List, as he privately called it, two years before, jotting down information that he felt was important to always have with him … Bobby and Pastor Jim’s phone numbers and addresses, some basic cooking instructions, and first aid and protection tips.

“It was! And I still remember all those stupid things and it’s come in handy,” Sam said with a grin. Opening the oven door, he grabbed the casserole and slid it inside. Glancing at his brother, he laughed and said in a sing-songy voice, “So if the casserole cooks for 30 minutes and the rolls take 12 minutes, we want to set the timer for …. 18 minutes!”

Shaking his head, Dean laughed and then grabbed him, tickling his sides, “So smart, Sammy! You are such a math whiz!”

Laughing and curling up slightly to protect himself, he said, “Stop it! I have to get the rolls out of the freezer and the butter!”

Dean kissed the top of his head before releasing him, “Come watch the news with me, we’ve got time for that … 17 whole minutes.”

He grinned and nodded. Watching the news together while dinner cooked had quickly become a habit and he found he liked knowing what was going on in the world. He had impressed his science teacher a few weeks before by making a comment about Dolly the cloned sheep. Settling down on the couch, he shifted slightly so he was leaning against his brother and smiled as the arm came up naturally and draped over his shoulder. 

OOooOOooOOoo

Yawning, he pulled into the parking lot of the school at 6:40, a mug of coffee in the cup holder. He hadn’t left Bobby’s until almost 9:30 the night before, dragging his feet until the older man all but pushed him into his car and set Sam up to bed after they had stood outside for several long minutes marveling at the comet large and bright in the sky. He had slept badly and had already called his brother that morning to check on him and make sure he had everything for school. Now, sitting in his car at the edge of the parking lot, staring at the four school buses idling in the front, he found himself wanting desperately to turn around, call the school to say he was sick, and go back to Bobby’s. The idea of being three hours away and with no easy way to get back made him feel sick as his father’s voice and unending instructions about Sam echoed in his head. He jumped as his cell phone rang and he saw Bobby’s number appear on the small screen.

“You OK, kid?”

He smiled at the sound of Bobby’s voice. “Yes, thank you.”

“Uh huh,” he said with a small chuckle. “I can hear how OK you are just in those few words. Where are you?”

“At school, I got here about five minutes ago.” He swallowed, taking a deep breath, priming himself to say he had changed his mind and was going to call in sick, before losing his nerve and going silent again.

Listening to the sound of the other man’s breathing across the line, Bobby struggled with how to help. He had been thinking about it on and off the last week, unsure what the best decision was and what Dean actually needed. Quickly making up his mind, he said softly, “I don’t want the next 12 hours to be torture for you, kid. It’s not that important, it’s not worth it. If you really don’t want to go, if you just can’t see yourself being able to get on the bus and put things out of your mind and enjoy yourself, then I’m OK with that. It’s not a failing on your part and I’m happy to call the school and tell them that you’re sick.” He paused for a minute, letting the words sink it. “This is your choice and I fully support whatever you decide to do, no judgement.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, suddenly feeling more confident in his decision. “This is your decision and I will fully support whatever you decide. You’re smart, you’re more than capable, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders … when you decide to use it.” Adding the last part with a small laugh, he was relieved to hear the younger man chuckle too. “Make the decision based on what you and you alone want. Sam will be 100% OK either way. He even has one of my cell phones in case the school is attacked by zombies and he’s forced to take cover in a closet.”

Dean laughed again, “And he always has salt in his bag and a silver butterfly knife in a secret compartment.”

“That’s what he told me!” Bobby said, smiling. He had privately been horrified at the idea of the younger boy carrying an illegal weapon, or any weapon, at school but had to admit the secret compartment in his backpack made it all but impossible to find. “So, he’s OK … you have to make the decision to do what’s right for you.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d finish the coffee I’m sure you’re drinking, get on the bus and make sure you sit next to the girl you’re sort of maybe kind of sweet on,” he said firmly. “Then I’d have a good time being a high schooler for the next 12 hours, all the good and bad and stupid stuff that goes along with that. Buy Sam something stupid from the gift shop I’m sure they have and he’ll be thrilled when you pick him up tonight.”

“And he’ll be OK, nothing has happened before, nothing will happen now,” he said quietly. 

At his house, Bobby silently nodded but kept his mouth shut as he let the other man work out the problem himself. 

Dean sighed quietly and glanced out the window again, “And if something does, you’ll deal with it.”

“Yep.”

Falling silent again, he sighed. “OK. It’s OK, I’ve got it.”

“You do,” he confirmed. 

“But if something does happen, you’ll call me, right? Anything at all …”

Bobby smiled, “You will be the first call, I promise.” He laughed softly, “So get going and make sure you get a good seat and ask your lady friend if she wants the window or the aisle, don’t just assume you know what she wants. You are not that smart, boy.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” he said quietly. “I trust you and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Have a great time, kid.”

Snapping the phone closed a moment later, he slipped it into his pocket and got out of the car. He forced himself to smile as Jen and several of her friends saw him coming across the parking lot and waved. “Which one is the best party bus?” he called out, forcing an air of lightness and happiness into his voice.

Threading her arm into his, Jen smiled, “Come on, Tommy is saving seats for all us over on Mrs. Fitzgerald’s bus because he heard she puts on headphones and plays audiobooks on her Walkman and doesn’t care what else is going on the whole bus ride.” 

He grinned, “Sounds good.” He smiled at the group as they walked toward the second bus in line. 

Sliding back into the seat next to him that evening on the ride home, Jen grinned. “Liz and I were talking and we’re going to go to Tuthill to go sledding and see the comet. Tommy said he and his brother were there a couple of nights ago and it was a really cool view, so he threw in a couple of doubles in his trunk for all of us to use.” She grinned, “Have you ever gone sledding at night?”

He turned his attention away from the dark bus window and smiled at her. “I wish I could go but I can’t. I need to pick up Sam from his friend’s house.” The lie and ongoing cover story about living with Bobby rolling easily off his lips.

She leaned in closer and smiled at him, “Oh, come on, Dean. Call his friend’s parents on that cool little phone of yours when we get back to school and ask if he can spend the night. It’s Friday night, he deserves to have some fun as much as you do. Or maybe just call your uncle and have him pick him up.” Moving slightly closer and resting her hand on his thigh, she said, “We’ve had lots of fun at Spencer Park. Tuthill will even be more fun.” 

Shifting in his seat as his cock stirred at the feel of her hand on his thigh, he shook his head. “Seriously, Jen. I wish I could but I can’t. I told Sam that I’d pick him up tonight. It wouldn’t be fair to him and our uncle is out of town tonight.” He smiled at her, adding quickly to smooth over hurt feelings, “But I’m glad we’ve gotten to spend all day together, today.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s having a great time and won’t care a bit,” she said, undeterred. Moving her hand slightly, she grinned at him, “And maybe saying no isn’t being fair to me, hmmm?”

He glanced out the window and saw they weren’t too far from exiting and probably no more than 10 minutes from school. Biting back the response he wanted to give, he smiled, “I really wish I could but …” Shrugging, he said, “It just won’t work tonight but I hope you and everyone have a great time.”

“If you don’t come with me tonight, I don’t know this will ever work,” she said, frowning. “I’m just asking you to have a bit of fun, Dean. I’m asking you to make a simple phone call, let your brother have some fun, and come do something fun with me. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

Looking at her, he shrugged and said simply. “It is.” He shifted in his seat, dislodging her hand. “My first responsibility will always be to my brother. You’re fun. I’ve had fun with you and I’d like to continue to have fun together; I like you. But, you and fun, and the fun we have together is lower on my priorities list then my brother and his needs and making sure he grows up safely. He is my number one priority right now.” He heard the hardness in his voice and swallowed, shrugging again. “But I hope you and everyone have a great time tonight and if it works out that I can join you another time, great.” 

“Asshole,” she shot back, sliding out of her seat and moving to sit next to her friend Liz in the row in front of him.

Pulling into Bobby’s driveway 40 minutes later, he grinned as his headlights lit up the porch and he saw Sam and Bobby sitting there, waiting for him.

“Hey!” Sam said, jumping up and hurrying toward the car. 

“What are you doing outside, dude? You’re going to freeze to death!” he said, getting out of the car and meeting his brother halfway. Pulling him into a hug, he kissed his brother’s head and squeezed him hard, blinking back the sudden sting of unexpected tears. “How are you doing? Did you have a good day?”

Sam laughed and nodded, bumping against him as they walked back to the porch. “I have a coat, gloves, and hat on and we’ve only been outside for a few minutes, waiting for you. I’m not going to freeze! The comet is really cool tonight and we wanted to see it. The news said it’s going to be the closest to earth this weekend and Bobby was telling me about a myth he remembered about comets and Julius Caesar.”

“Cool,” Dean agreed, meeting Bobby’s eyes as they reached the porch. “Sounds like an excellent evening, Sammy boy.” 

“How was the trip?” Bobby asked.

He nodded, “Good enough.” Shrugging, he smiled as Sam opened the door to the house and went in, “Happy I went, happier that I’m home.” 

Pulling him close, Bobby hugged him and said softly, “I’m proud of you, kid. I know it wasn’t easy but I think it was the right decision.”

He nodded, hugging the older man back. Glancing into the house and not seeing his brother, he took two steps closer and closed the door, staying outside. “Your call this morning … it made the difference. It made it OK.”

Bobby smiled, “Good, I’m glad.”

“Sitting there … all I could hear was Dad’s voice, his instructions. He hated me leaving Sam alone, he knew it happened and for a couple of hours, it was fine but … this sort of thing and no way to get back?” He shook his head, “There’s no way he would have been OK with this trip.”

Keeping with his policy not to criticize John, or at least not too much, to the boys, Bobby nodded. “I know, kid. But it worked out fine. You had a good time; Sam had a great day at school. We made burgers and talked about Latin.” He laughed, “Do you not make burgers for that boy at home? That’s all he wants to eat here.”

Dean grinned, “Rarely. There’s no way I can compete with yours!” He glanced at the door as it opened and Sam appeared.

“Are we going to have pie soon?”

Glancing at Bobby, he smiled, “Burgers and pie?”

He laughed and nodded. “Sam wanted to make sure you had a good desert waiting for you when you got here.”

Sam grinned, “And it’s really good!” He held his fingers slightly apart and grinned, “I had a small bite, just to make sure.”

Following Bobby into the house, he smiled and felt 100% at peace with his decision on the bus. Jen might not speak to him again but his brother’s excitement when he got home and total faith in his return made it worth it.

OOooOOooOOoo

He smiled as Jen met his eyes on Monday as he walked into their Government class. Taking his normal seat, he said, “How was sledding Friday night?”

She looked at him for a long moment before saying in a cool voice, “It was fine. Tommy was a lot of fun, he let me ride in front every time and then we went to Dairy Queen afterwards. He and I might go again next Friday. The park is closed but they don’t lock it.”

“Sounds like a good time,” he agreed. He knew she wanted him to say something about Tommy and her, question it, react it to it somehow, and he also knew he didn’t care enough to play her games. “They’re saying more snow by Wednesday, so it should be good. You’ll have fun.”

Staring at him for a moment, she shrugged and turned around as the final bell rang and class began.

OOooOOooOOoo


	8. Chapter 8: April

April 1997

“Got everything?” Bobby asked as Dean slid into the passenger seat of the car the next Tuesday morning. Spring break had started the day before and he was driving them to Minneapolis so they could take a direct flight to Washington DC.

Dean glanced in the back seat and saw Sam all but bouncing with excitement, despite the early morning. “I’ve got Sam, our airline tickets, cash, and two credit cards. I’m set,” he said with a laugh.

Bobby laughed, “What about you, Sam? Got your bag?”

“Yep!” he said. “All packed. Dean even gave me $100 in cash in case there’s a problem and I’ve got our maps and what we’re going to see. He said he’s in charge of paying and I’m in charge of navigation and being our tour guide.”

“Sounds like you boys have your vacation system as planned out as your house system,” he said, glancing behind him and slowly backing out of their driveway. As he pulled onto the interstate a few minutes later, he asked, “So what’s on your list of must see stuff for DC?” 

Dean chuckled, “We are going to be there three full days and Sam has us well organized.”

“I do!” he confirmed, leaning forward slightly. “We’ve never gotten to go on spring break before and we’ve never been to DC and it’s going to be so much fun.”

“So, what’s on your list, Sam?” Bobby asked. He and the travel agent he had sent Dean to had talked several times and he already had their flight and hotel information committed to memory. 

“Ready, Sam?” Dean asked with a grin, standing by the car several hours later in short term parking.

He nodded, bouncing slightly. Turning to Bobby, he hugged him. “Bye! We’ll get you something cool as a souvenir from DC.”

“Thanks for driving us,” Dean said, hugging him quickly. “We’ll see you on Saturday. We land around 1:00.”

“I’ve got it all written down,” he confirmed. “Have a great time and I’ll see you boys on Saturday.” Watching them walk into the terminal, he waved again as Sam glanced behind him and smiled, waving. He was thrilled they were going and knew that, even though Dean had asked if he wanted to come with them, it was important that he be allowed to go with just his brother. Arrangements had been made with the hotel and he was confident that the other man would be able to handle any hic-ups they ran across in their trip. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Do you like it?” Sam asked, grinning as the older man opened the shopping bag in front of them.

Dean bit back a laugh, glancing down at their sofa, as Bobby opened bag and pulled out the navy blue ballcap with FBI stitched into the front. 

“Dean said you’d put it good use,” Sam said, laughing. “It was a really fun tour and look what I got!” He pulled out his wallet from his jean’s pocket and showed the older man a fake ID which identified him as an FBI Trainee. “It’s got my picture, name, birthday, and everything on it. Cool, huh?”

Bobby laughed and nodded, “Very cool and yes, I love my hat. And Dean’s right, it will come in handy … this summer for keeping the sun out of my eyes.” He put the hat on and grinned, “How do I look? Like a regular G-Man?”

Dean laughed and nodded, “Without a doubt. They always wear flannel and jeans, too. It’s the perfect look.” Still grinning, he asked him, “Did you have fun on your spring break? Enjoy a bit of peace and quiet and break from us?”

Bobby laughed, “Yep, got a good reminder of what peace and quiet actually means. And, I stopped at Blue Earth to catch up with Pastor Jim and helped him with an ….” He stopped for a second before saying, “with a small problem he was having with the wife of a parishioner. He wanted to know when you were coming by for a visit. Now that Easter is over, his schedule is a bit more open and he’d like to see you both. He hasn’t seen you since just after your dad’s death.”

“A ghost wife?” Sam asked quickly. “Like in the movie?”

Sensing that it wasn’t a story the older man wanted to tell his younger brother, Dean ignored the question and said, “Road trip to Blue Earth! Sounds like fun. What do you think, Sammy?”

Sam shrugged, “I guess, it will be nice to see Pastor Jim. He’s always fun and has the best stories.”

“Yeah,” Dean said slowly with a nod, trying hard not to feel tired just thinking about giving up a Saturday or a full weekend and what that would do to his schedule. “It’ll be good to see him again.”

Bobby nodded, “I’ll let him know. We’ll plan on driving over Friday after school and back on Saturday afternoon.” He glanced into the kitchen and said, “Do you boys have stuff for dinner or how about I take you out as one last fun thing for your spring break?”

Sam grinned, “Yes, let’s go out, please! Chinese, please!” He flopped against the back of the couch with a laugh, “I’m so hungry. Dean wouldn’t let me get snacks for the plane. If we get Chinese, can we get a pu pu plater?” 

“Thanks Bobby,” he said, ignoring Sam. “We’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow but, in the meantime, the cupboard is rather bare.” Standing up, he said, “I’ll drive since you did all the driving today.” Swatting his brother’s leg, he smiled and said, “Get up, squirt, and stop being a drama queen.”

Sam laughed and rolled off the sofa, saying, “We are totally getting a pu pu platter!”

Allowing Sam to go ahead, Dean gently bumped Bobby and said softly. “Thanks for the spring break vacation, Bobby. It was a great trip and Sam had a wonderful time. It was everything I wanted for him.”

He smiled, “I’m glad. Did you enjoy it, too? And I mean personally enjoyed it, not just enjoyed it because of what you were giving Sam or because Sam liked it.”

Dean thought for a moment before nodding slowly and smiling. “Yeah, I did. I loved walking around the Lincoln Memorial, that was just … amazing and the American History Museum was cool. Sam loved the Air & Space one but that wasn’t my favorite. I thought the American History or the Natural History ones were much better.” He grinned and nodded again, “Yeah, I personally had a great time and not just because of Sam.”

“Good,” he said with a smile. Gently hitting the other man’s shoulder, he laughed, “And an FBI hat? That is some cheek, boy.”

He laughed, “I knew you’d love it! And all I could think about was Dad’s IDs that we burned and then when Sam was all excited to get a fake ID … It was all I could do not to laugh out loud.”

Bobby laughed and shook his head, “Your dad would have found this really funny, too.”

Smiling, he nodded, “Yeah. I think he would have. And, he would have been proud that I got Sam to put down the wrong birthday and confirmed that they really weren’t taking fingerprints.”

The older man smiled, “Smart. No sense leaving a trail.”

He grinned, “I might be out of the life right now but I won’t be forever.”

Pushing down a twinge of sadness at that comment, Bobby forced himself to smile, “Let’s get going before your brother dies of hunger in the backseat.”

“The way he eats, I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t eat the backseat,” Dean complained. “I swear, he’s like a bottomless pit.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Glancing over as Dean drove away from the middle school the next Monday afternoon, Sam asked, “Will you help me with my lines for the play?” 

“Sure, happy to,” he said. “How’s your Latin project coming? Isn’t that due next week?”

Sam nodded, “It’s fine but I’m more worried about the play. We have to be off script by Thursday. Off script means ...”

“I know what it means,” he said, interrupting his brother with a quick smile as they stopped at a light. “But I’m more interested in your Latin stuff. What’s ‘fine’ mean, exactly?”

Rolling his eyes, his said, “Fine means OK, good, under control.” He huffed and shook his head, “It’s not that hard to understand.” 

“Excuse me?” he said, glancing over at his brother. “I’m asking you about your homework and you think giving me attitude about it is the best course of action? Since when?”

He huffed again and shifted in his seat, folding his arms. 

“I asked you a question, Sam,” he said firmly. 

“My stupid Latin teacher told me today that he didn’t like my idea for my translation, OK?” he shot back, kicking at the floorboard. “We went around the room and had to say what we were doing and he told me mine was too complex and complicated and to pick something else. I told him it wasn’t too complicated but he didn’t care. I tried to tell him I could do it but he wouldn’t even let me talk.” He sighed and glanced at Dean before saying in a quiet voice, “I have a note for you … or technically I guess for Bobby, from the school about it. And …”

Glancing at him as he pulled into their driveway, Dean said, “And what?”

“And I have detention Wednesday for losing my temper and being rude,” he said in an even quieter voice. “Sorry.”

“And when were you planning on telling me this,” he snapped. “This evening or were you going to wait until tomorrow?”

He shrugged but didn’t answer. 

Closing his eyes for a second as the garage door went up, he sighed and shook his head. “Sam …”

“Sorry,” the younger boy repeated.

“Give me the note when we get into the house and then go to your room,” Dean said firmly as he pulled in and shut off the car. “I’ll be up in a bit.”

Sam swallowed and nodded. Getting out of the car, he grabbed his bookbag and all but ran into the house. 

Getting out of the car at a slower pace, Dean walked down the driveway to get the mail. He forced himself to smile and wave as he saw their next door neighbor pull into his own driveway. 

“Hey Dean,” the other man said, rolling down his window. “I thought Sam was on mail duty!”

He smiled, pausing in the driveway for a second. Forcing himself to laugh, he said, “Hi Bob. You know how it is, got to give the kid a break once in a while … child labor laws and all.”

The other man laughed and nodded, “That’s what we get for electing a democrat again as president.”

Laughing, Dean waved goodnight and went into the house, shutting the garage door behind him. The house was quiet and he saw a sealed envelope with Robert Singer written on the outside sitting on the island. He picked it up and carried it into the office, shutting the door behind him. Pulling the paper out a moment later, he skimmed it and shook his head. He closed his eyes and laid his head on his folded arms on the desk, thinking. 

Walking up the steps 20 minutes later, he opened his brother’s bedroom door and said, “Ready to talk?”

Sam looked up from where he was curled up on his bed and nodded slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sitting up.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Dean nodded. “Are you sorry you were rude to your teacher or just sorry you’re in trouble at school and in trouble with me?”

He swallowed and shrugged.

“Nope,” Dean said firmly, tapping his leg. “That’s not going to cut it, Sam. Talk and be honest with me.” He smiled slightly, grabbing one of his brother’s ankles and giving it a gentle squeeze. “No secrets between us, remember?”

Sam smiled slightly, moving closer to his brother so they were touching. “Honestly?”

Pulling him closer, Dean kissed the top of his head, “Yes, Sammy. I want honesty from you. We always have to be honest with each other.”

“I’m mostly sorry I’m in trouble with you,” he said quietly. “A little sorry for being in trouble at school but detention isn’t a big deal but …” He swallowed, “I know we’re not supposed to call attention to ourselves and cause trouble. But Mr. Baxter is just such an idiot! It’s not my fault that he thinks I can’t do something when I know I can!” His voice rose and he shook his head in frustration. “That’s not my fault!”

Dean shook his head and said firmly, “Do not go down that road, Sam. We’re talking about you and your behavior and right now, that’s all I care about. If you’re going to start shifting the blame to someone else, I’m going to take it as a sign that you don’t understand what you did and how you’re at fault here and we’ll continue this conversation with your jeans down and you turned over my knee. Understand?”

He nodded and swallowed. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I just get so frustrated because …” Glancing at Dean he said, “I know so much more then him and I’ve used Latin to save our lives! It was something Dad was really proud of me for and Bobby is really proud and you’re proud of it and to have him tell me I don’t know what I’m doing or capable of … It’s just not …” His voice trailed off as he shook his head and angrily wiped away tears starting build in his eyes. “Dad always said I was great at Latin and I’ve always been proud of that because it was like the one thing he was proud of that I could do and I don’t want to lose that.”

“That’s not the only thing you could do that Dad was proud of,” he said firmly, interrupting his brother. “Not even close, Sammy.”

He shrugged, clearly not believing it and sighed, the tears starting to fall freely. “I just couldn’t deal with him saying I couldn’t do something, that it was too complicated when I know I could and it’s not even as complicated as some of the stuff that Bobby has helped me with. If Dad was here, it wouldn’t even be an issue because I wouldn’t have been stuck with this stupid teacher all year! We would have moved ages ago and it would have been better.” Curling up slightly, he whispered, “I just miss him so much, Dean. He’s missing everything and it makes me mad to think that the one thing that I know I can do and that he was proud of, some idiot thinks I can’t do when I’ve done so much more then him and Dad’s not here to set him straight.” 

Not interested in trying to untangle all the twists and turns and warped impressions his brother had and feeling, once again, over his head, he focused on the one thing that he thought was probably at the heart of the issue. Pulling the younger boy closer to him, he kissed him again and hugged him close. “I know you miss him, Sammy, and it really sucks that he’s not here with us.”

Crying full on now, Sam nodded. “None of this would be happening if Dad was here,” he whispered again. 

Dead didn’t say anything but held him tight, his mind flashing back to the long nights at Bobby’s, in the first few weeks after John’s news, and how often he had held his crying brother. 

“I’m sorry for everything,” Sam whispered 10 minutes later, his tears mostly stopped. “I’m sorry I was rude to Mr. Baxter and I’m sorry for causing problems at school. I know how important it is not to make waves and call attention to ourselves.” He shifted in his brother’s arms and sighed, not lifting his head up from Dean’s chest, “And I’m really sorry for being rude to you. You’re great and I shouldn’t be giving you a hassle.”

Giving him a tight squeeze, he kissed the top of his brother’s head again, “Thank you, Sam, I appreciate it. Do you want me and Bobby or maybe just Bobby to give Mr. Baxter a call tomorrow and set him straight about your assignment or do you just want to pick something else?” Shifting slightly, he glanced down and smiled, “The choice is yours, squirt. I’m happy to do whatever you want.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “No, I’ll change. I have another idea that’s not as cool but no one else mentioned it today and it’s easy. I shouldn’t call attention to myself.”

“That’s probably the right call,” he said softly. “As much as I want you to show him what you can do, you’re smart to just go along with what he wants right now.”

He nodded, “I know and it’s what Dad would want me to do.”

Hating himself for agreeing, Dean nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, he would.” 

“I miss him so much sometimes,” he said quietly. “But then I don’t sometimes and home feels normal and then something happens and …” His voice trailed off as he started to cry again. 

“I get it, Sammy. I know,” he said. “We’ll get through this together. Stupid teachers, selfish girlfriends, idiot friends, everything.” He chuckled softly, squeezing his brother again. Jen hadn’t thawed at all over the break and had given him the cold shoulder in class today. He had only slightly cared then but now found himself mentally laughing at the idea of caring at all when he had something, someone, so much more important to deal with.

He nodded against his brother’s chest but didn’t say anything. 

“You know what you should do, Sammy?” Dean asked ten minutes later when his brother’s crying had stopped.

Slowly sitting up, he wiped his face and said, “What?”

Dean grinned at him, “On the last day of school, after school lets out, you should turn the assignment you really want to do in for Mr. Baxter to see.” He chuckled, “You don’t have to say anything really, you don’t have to make it a big deal, just a simple ‘Here’ and then walk out.” 

Slowly grinning, Sam nodded. “Yeah, that would be cool!”

“It would be,” he agreed, laughing. He sighed, “But in the meantime, what are we going to do about today’s issue? You know you can’t lose your temper and mouth off at school and be rude, just because you’re upset.” When his brother nodded, he continued, “Plus, you have to tell Bobby what’s going on.”

“Dean! No!” Sam protested, shaking his head. “Please, can’t you just sign the note like you always do?”

“Sure, I was planning on it,” he confirmed, shifting so he could look at the younger boy. “But think about it, Sammy … Do you want to risk your school calling Bobby tomorrow to discuss what happened and him not having a clue what they’re talking about?” He grinned slightly, “Both of our butts would be on the line if that happened. He’s OK with permission slips and whatnot but I think you know full well how he’d react to finding out about this incident from your school guidance counselor or teacher.”

Sam swallowed and nodded, “Yeah, he’d kill me.”

Dean hugged him, “Us, Sammy boy. He’d kill both of us.” Glancing at the clock on the wall and seeing it was just before 5:00, he said, “Do you want me to call him and see if we can go over to his house so you can tell him in person or do you want him to come here?”

“No,” he moaned, shaking his head. “Please let me tell him over the phone, Dean.”

Shaking his head, he said, “No. He needs to read the note you brought home or do you want to read that out loud to him over the phone?”

Sam blushed and shook his head, “No.”

“OK then,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to call him and see what he wants to do.”

“Please, Dean … just handle it yourself,” he said, eyes starting to tear up again.

Reaching over, he hugged him again, “It’s OK, Sam. It’s the right thing to do.” Ignoring his brother’s shake of the head, he quickly left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him before his resolve gave out. He had always walked a very fine line when John was gone and he was in charge and the choice between telling versus not telling always seemed to hinge on how strong of a chance there was that some Authority Figure would tell. With Sam’s school aware of the situation and judging by his own school’s counselor eagerness to get involved, he calculated the chances of Bobby being notified as very high.

“Anything your brother wants to tell me?” Bobby asked as soon as he picked up the phone and heard Dean’s voice.

He sighed, feeling incredibly grateful that they had both dodged a bullet. “Yeah, that’s why I’m calling you,” he said softly. “I’m guessing his school called you?”

“Yep,” he said firmly. 

Dean waited a moment, hoping for more information and then took a deep breath, struggling with an almost overwhelming urge to hang up the phone and protect his brother. “Two things to talk about,” he said quietly. “First … do you want to come over here or should we come to you? But before you answer that, let me fill you in on the conversation I’ve had already with Sam.”

He sighed as the younger man finished his story several minutes later. “That doesn’t excuse being rude to a teacher, Dean. I get that he’s upset but …”

“Oh, I know,” he said quickly. “And I told him that and I told him that you and I would talk about it but there is sort of … extenuating circumstances, if you will.”

Bobby laughed, “Extenuating circumstances … that’s a good one, kid. But I agree and wasn’t planning on raking him over the coals.”

“I won’t spank him and I wouldn’t be OK with you doing that either,” he said quietly but firmly. “He was out of line but it wasn’t dangerous or illegal or even really that stupid.”

“No, I wasn’t going to suggest that either,” he confirmed. “Grounding him worked well before and I think that’s appropriate again. I have multiple bins of screws and bolts and nails that all need to be sorted. It’s one of those crappy projects I’ve been putting off and it gives him plenty of time to think about how to keep his temper in check and a teaches him a bit of patience, too.”

Dean chuckled, “Yeah.” Mentally running down their calendar for the week, he said, “He’s got his play practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays which he needs to go to but he can certainly cross off everything else fun this week and upcoming weekend and be put to work at your house Saturday, like before.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bobby confirmed. “Why don’t I head over to you all so we can talk. It’ll be less disruptive for your schedules and you boys always have food for dinner.”

He smiled, “We made beef stroganoff in the crockpot yesterday, just have to cook the noodles and heat it up tonight.”

Bobby laughed, “You amaze me, kid. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

Hanging up the phone, Dean glanced at the clock and thought about his To Do list. Luckily, the first day back from spring break hadn’t brought much homework with it and he was confident that Sam’s load was similar, apart from the Latin assignment. He went back upstairs and into his brother’s room. Sitting down next to his brother, he said, “Bobby will be here in about an hour, Sam.”

He rolled over and looked at his brother. “Is he mad?” he asked softly.

“No, he’s not mad,” Dean confirmed. “He’s a little disappointed at your behavior but he and I have talked and he understands that you’re upset and knows how, when we’re upset, things happen.” Gently poking the younger boy’s side, he smiled and said quietly, “And count your lucky stars that you have a brilliant older brother, Sammy boy. Your school was quicker on the draw then I thought they would be and he was already aware and waiting on a call from us.”

Sam groaned, rolling back over and burying his face in his quilt. 

“Nope, none of that,” Dean said firmly, swatting him gently on the butt. “Get up and let’s get started on your homework so it’s mostly done before he gets here.”

With a sigh, he sat up and stared at his brother before asking quietly, “How much trouble am I in?”

Standing up, Dean pulled him up gently and pulled him into a hug. “Not much, Sammy. Like I said, we’re both disappointed but understand. Consider yourself ground through the weekend and Bobby has some great projects at his house for you all day on Saturday to give you plenty of time to think and work on your patience.”

He nodded, hugging him back and sighed. “Thanks, Dean.”

“I will always have your back, dude.”

Sam glanced up and smiled, “And I will always have yours, too.”

Trying to find the right balance of letting Bobby and Sam talk privately and listening in case his brother needed him, Dean stood at the kitchen island and quietly separated cauliflower florets from the main head. He glanced up as he saw his brother stand up from the sofa and nod once, wiping at his face before quickly going upstairs. “Everything OK,” he asked as Bobby stood up a second later and roamed into the kitchen area.

He nodded, “Yeah. He just went upstairs to wash his face and blow his nose.” Smiling slightly, he said, “We had a good talk and he gets it. He’s just frustrated and I get that. His teacher sounds annoying. But he also knows that dealing with annoying people is life and them being annoying doesn’t give him the right to be rude and disrespectful.”

Dean smiled, “Right but that’s a hard lesson to learn.” He laughed, sweeping the florets from the cutting board into a bowl. “It’s hard enough to remember at 30, much less 13.”

“Or 18,” Bobby said with a grin. “Why don’t you boys plan on spending Friday night at my place. It’ll save you from having to get up so early on Saturday morning.” 

“That would be good, thanks,” he said. “Considering I’m not the one in trouble here but if you want him at your place at 8:00, that means I get to be up at 6:30 to get dressed, make sure he’s dressed, breakfast, and in the car by 7:30.” Shaking his head, he laughed as he moved to the pantry, “You’re the one who is getting the free labor, you should have to come get him.”

He laughed, “We could do a custody exchange at McDonalds like all the divorced parents on Saturday mornings.” Watching him for a moment he said, “What are you making anyway? I thought you said we were having stroganoff?”

“We are,” Dean confirmed, putting the bread crumb container on the counter. “But I try to make sure we also have a vegetable too, so I’m making parmesan crusted cauliflower. It’s good and easy.” He glanced at the oven to check the temperature before turning back to the counter and smiling at the older man’s expression. “What?”

Bobby smiled at him, “Nothing. Just … you are amazing, kid. You really are and you have no idea.”

He shook his head, turning his attention to the food. “No, I’m not.” Dumping the ingredients into a bowl, he said quietly. “It’s important that we eat right. I always tried before but … “. He shrugged, “It was harder in hotels or when money was tight. It’s easier now and it’s important that I get it right and do what’s best.” Spreading out the coated florets on a baking dish he gave the older man a lopsided grin, “And that means making sure my baby brother eats at least some fruits and vegetables every day and not just the onion on the fantastic burgers our uncle makes.”

Watching him move around the kitchen easily, Bobby silently wondered if John would be proud of the amazing job his oldest son was doing or not even notice because he would have demanded and expected nothing less. “What can I help you with?” he asked after a minute.

Dean shook his head, “Nothing. Those will take 30 minutes to bake and the water for the noodles is already heating up.” He glanced at the ceiling for a moment before saying, “If you want to keep an eye on everything, I wouldn’t mind going to check on Sam.”

Bobby nodded, “Of course.”

Walking upstairs, he knocked quietly on Sam’s closed door before opening it. “You OK, Sammy?” he asked quietly, sitting down on the bed. 

Rolling over, Sam nodded and sat up. “Just thinking,” he said with a sigh.

“Anything you want to share?”

He shook his head, “No, not really. Just … stuff.”

Dean smiled, “OK. You’re allowed to just think of stuff. Come down when you’re ready though, OK? I’m cooking dinner.”

He smiled, bumping against his brother. “Do you need help?”

Hugging him close, he said, “You know I always need help, dude. I can’t set the table to save my life.” He stood up and held out his hand, gently hauling his brother up. Grinning, he tickled Sam’s sides, “And I certainly can’t clean up the kitchen.”

He laughed, curling up slightly against the onslaught. “Stop it, Dean! I’m coming to help already! Stop!”

“Good,” he said, kissing his hair. “Because we’re in this together, squirt.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling and giving a small laugh. “Just like always.”

Dean nodded, “Yep, just like always.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Standing in the kitchen Wednesday night, Dean glanced at the printed script Sam had given him and said in a fake, slow drawl accent he had been using since they started, “And the population, Professor Willard?”

From his seat at the dining table, Sam grinned and tried not to laugh. “Within the town limits, 2,640.”

“Just a moment, Professor …. whisper whisper whisper,” Dean said laughing slightly as he opened the oven and pulled out the bubbling cheesy broccoli casserole. 

“Oh, really? The population is …”

Dean glanced at him, saying, “I’m not sure it really maters but this says you are supposed to say, ‘Oh, yes, indeed?’ “

He made a face and nodded, “Sorry, ‘Oh, yes, indeed? The population, at the moment, is 2,642…”

Leaning against the counter, Dean read along as Sam finished his recitation of the population of the various areas of Grover’s Corner. “Good job,” he said as they finished up. “You have it basically dead on.” Putting the paper down on the island, he turned back to the stove and turned the kielbasa links over in the pan. 

“Thanks!” Sam said, getting up and grabbing the plates from the cabinet. “Do you think my part is boring?”

“No, not at all,” he said, only slightly lying. His brother had the part of the professor in the play which meant he had three slightly long and dry monologues and almost zero interaction with any of the other characters except the Stage Manager. “I’m impressed you memorized all that stuff and some of those words … Devonian basalt, is that even a real thing?” Glancing at the younger boy, he nodded at the set table, “Ready to eat?”

He nodded, “Yeah and yeah, I looked up Devonian and it’s a real period but I don’t remember when and barely understood what they were talking about when they were describing it.”

Dean laughed, dishing out the casserole. “I remember having to memorize that for 6th, maybe 7th grade science and hating it. Just not my thing, at all.” Passing off the plates, he turned off the oven and stove and sat down. “Do you think your part is boring?”

Sam shrugged, “Kind of.” He sighed and yawned, propping his head up on his hand and poked at his food. “I don’t talk to anyone; I just sort of lecture about really dry stuff.”

Watching him for a moment, Dean lightly kicked him under the table. “Elbows off the table, squirt,” he said with a grin as his brother immediately sat up straighter. “And don’t think of it as you not talking to anyone. You get basically the whole stage to yourself and the spotlight in front of the audience.”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “It’s been fun, at least. Maybe I’ll do it again, if that’s OK.”

“Of course it’s OK,” Dean confirmed. “I’m glad you’ve had fun with it and I’m looking forward to seeing it in a couple of weeks.” Taking a bite of his sausage, he said, “So is Bobby. He asked me about it when I talked to him on the phone yesterday.”

Sam grinned, “Really?”

“Yes, really, Sam,” he said with a laugh. “I told you that we’ll both be there, with plenty of roses … and tomatoes, depending on how good you are.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Yeah, I dare you to bring in a tomato and see what Bobby says about that!” 

Picking up the remote and turning on the TV, Dean glanced over as his brother plopped down next to him on the sofa 30 minutes later. “Kitchen cleaned?” he asked.

Sam nodded, bumping against his brother. “Yeah,” he said as he yawned again. 

He moved his arm and wasn’t surprised when his brother curled up slightly against him. Sam had been quiet and a little more needy then usual since Monday. Rubbing his brother’s hair, he said, “Tired, Sammy?”

He nodded, “Yeah and school sucked. Detention was boring.”

Biting his tongue to avoid pointing out the obvious, Dean just nodded and handed his brother the remote. “Here you go, find something good for us to watch. And at least tomorrow is Thursday and the weekend is in sight.”

“A weekend during slave labor around Bobby’s,” he complained. 

He nodded, “Yep, and I’m sure Bobby will just feed you bread and water … warm tap water and stale bread crusts.” Ruffling his brother’s hair again, he smiled and laughed softly as Sam shook his head, making a face. “What’s that face for, Sammy boy? You don’t agree with me? You think you’ll be able to get Bobby to maybe make something better for you or maybe I’ll make pancakes Saturday morning?”

Sam laughed softly before shaking his head again, “Just sucks.”

“So does losing your temper with a teacher and getting your school to call Bobby,” he said matter of factly. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh, laying his head against his brother. “Sorry.”

Kissing the top of his head, Dean said softly. “I know and it’ll be fine.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Coming into the kitchen Saturday morning, Bobby smiled and said as he sat down, “Those pancakes were good, kid. Just what Sam needed I think to tided him over for at least the next hour or so.”

Dean laughed as he finished stacking the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, the griddle already clean and drying on the rack. “Yeah, three pancakes and 4 sausages will keep him satisfied for a couple of hours before he’s back in here looking for more.” Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he held up the carafe and topped off Bobby’s cup when the other man nodded before sitting down next to him at the kitchen table. “He’s all settled in your workroom?”

He nodded, “Yep and with enough bins of screws and nails and washers and bolts to keep him occupied for a month. I figure I’d put him on something else after lunch.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he said, “I got a load of new research books in from another hunter’s estate and I need to catalog those and I figured he could help with that.”

“By himself?” Dean asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “I’m not sure …”

Bobby sighed and shook his head, “As if, boy. First off, I’ve already gone through the boxes with a fine eye and have already pulled anything dangerous out of there. And second off, like the dusting he did a couple of months ago, I’ll be nearby and, in this case, in the same room working on my own stuff and can keep an eye on what he’s doing.” Smiling slightly, he shook his head. “With you boys running around here for 10 plus years, getting into god only knows what when I’m not looking, I’ve gotten good at moving stuff out of the way and keeping you both alive.” He chuckled, “You haven’t noticed that no one has gotten cursed or killed on my watch?”

Dean laughed, “OK, you’re right. You’ve managed great this long, I’m sure you can keep it up another day or so.”

“Idjit,” he said with a smile. “So, fill me in on what’s going on with your life right now, kid.” Taking a sip of coffee, he asked, “Still seeing that girl you were sweet on?”

He snorted and shook his head, “Nope, she dumped me a few weeks ago.” He smiled, “And let’s see … what else is going on with me.” Thinking for a minute he said, “We got some information in Calculus this week about sitting for a test next month to test out of the 101 and 102 math classes that all Freshmen have to take. It’s $99 and you don’t get credit hours for it but you don’t have to take the classes either.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he said, “I’m thinking about doing that, if you’re OK with the money and think it’s a good idea.”

“I’m more than OK with the money,” he said with a smile. “It sounds like a great idea. When’s the test?

Dean smiled, “May 10th but I have to drive down to Vermillion. So, maybe Sam can spend Saturday with you? The test is 4 hours, starts at 10:00 and ends at 3:00 and they provide lunch and a tour of the campus afterwards so it might be a long day. If you don’t want to watch him, I can …”

“That’s perfect,” Bobby said evenly, cutting him off. “I’ll pick him up and maybe we can go to dinner or something and celebrate you starting down the college road when you get back in town.” Studying the younger man in front of him for a moment, he said, “I’m really glad you decided to go, Dean. Not just to make your dad happy but for you and your future. It was the right decision.”

He nodded, “Yeah.” He had filled out and submitted the paperwork several weeks ago and still remembered the feeling of resignation and not celebration he imagined most people would feel. 

OOooOOooOOoo

Glancing up from the menu and shopping list he was jotting down in Homeroom, Dean smiled slightly as Mrs. Adams handed him his sealed report card. “Thank you.”

“Signed and back to me, everyone,” she said, as she slowly walked around the desks passing out envelopes. “Due back by next Thursday, so you have a full week to break the news. If not … what will happen?”

“Head on a stake?” Eric, a guy in the front of the room, offered with a laugh.

She laughed, “Exactly! Head on a stake, mounted at the front of the school to serve as an object lesson for all those who think about not returning their report cards in a timely fashion.” She smiled as the bell rang, “And with that wonderful vision in your head, have a great day!”

Shoving the envelope into his backpack, Dean gathered his stuff and tried not to dwell on his To Do list. They were visiting Pastor Jim over weekend, leaving tomorrow after Sam got out of school and coming back Saturday afternoon, making it another short weekend. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind as he took his seat in Calculus. 

“Since so many of you had trouble with Tuesday’s quiz,” Mr. Roberts began after the bell rang, “I want to review the definition and properties of definite integral. You all need to know this before we move on and trust me, it will be part of your test next Friday.”

Dean sighed as he flipped to a fresh sheet of paper in his notebook. Trying to pay attention, his mind kept drifting to his To Do list. It was Thursday and without Jen to spend time with, he had almost 2 hours between when his school got out and he had to pick up Sam from play practice. That was plenty of time to run errands, go grocery shopping, and still get Sam on time. Grateful for his seat in the back, he pulled out another notebook and resumed working on his grocery list. 

“A word with you, please, Mr. Winchester,” 

Stopping as he made his way out of class with the bell, he gave his teacher a small smile. “Sure. What I can do for you today, Mr. Roberts?”

“I missed your voice in today’s class,” he said evenly. “You did well on Tuesday’s quiz and it would have been helpful for you to add to the discussion. What were you working on that was so distracting? Something more important for another class that you should have done last night, maybe?”

He shook his head, “No, nothing really.”

“What were you working on then?”

Shifting his backpack on his shoulder, he shook his head, lying easily, “Nothing really. Like you said, something for another class.”

The older man looked at him for a long moment before nodding, “Next time do your homework at home, not in my class. OK?”

He smiled, “Sure, sorry.”

“OK, get going before you’re late.”

Pulling into the middle school parking lot, Dean yawned and glanced at the clock, proud of what he had taken care that afternoon. Groceries for the upcoming week were bought and put away at home and he had run by the bookstore to pick up one of Sam’s birthday gifts. With at least 15 minutes to go until Sam got out of practice, he knew he should grab his Literature book and start on the day’s reading assignment but the headache that had been lurking in the background was making itself known and he was tired. Slouching down slightly, he rested is head against the cold window and closed his eyes.

“Bye!”

Dean jerked awake at the sound of his brother’s voice drifting toward the car and he forced himself to blink several times, waking up. Reaching over, he undid the door lock just as Sam got to the door and slid in. 

He grinned, “Hey. How are you? Sorry I’m late, practice ran a bit long but it was great! I nailed my part.”

“Excellent, dude!” he said, turning the car back on and slowly pulled away as Sam put on his seatbelt. “And my day was good, too. Got food for the house and something for May 2nd already so no peaking in my closet.” He laughed as his brother grinned at him.

“I don’t mind opening presents early, you know.”

Dean laughed, turning out of the parking lot and heading toward the house. “Yeah, well, it’s for your birthday and you’re not 14 yet so, no dice, Sammy boy.” Stopping at a traffic light, he glanced over and said, “How’s the report card look?” 

He grinned, “All A’s but one B in algebra but it’s a really high B, like 88, so almost an A.”

“Good job!” he said, holding out his hand for a high five before accelerating at the green light. “I’m thrilled and I know Bobby will be, too. You’ll have to give him a call when we get home.”

Sam nodded, “What’s for dinner tonight? I’m starving and lunch was gross again. It was this weird ham and cheese sandwich thing …” He shook his head, “It was disgusting.”

Turning onto their street, he said, “I keep telling you … bring your lunch like I do and you’ll be much happier. The food doesn’t get any better at Lincoln.” He smiled as Sam shrugged again, “We’re having chili tonight so all we have to do is make the cornbread. You want to help?”

He grinned, “Yeah, I can do that.”

Pulling the car into the driveway and pressing the garage door, he said, “Thanks. Oh, and let me see your Latin assignment, first, please.”

Sam huffed and made a face.

“Sam …”

“Fine!” he shot back, opening the car door as his brother shut the car off in the garage. 

Dean shook his head and took a deep breath, remembering his vow to allow normal, childish pushback and not overreact to Sam’s stomping down the driveway. “I got both bookbags,” he called as he grabbed both from the backseat. Dropping both of them on the floor by the island, he grabbed the bag of bread and stuck two pieces in the toaster.

“This looks really good!” Sam said a minute later, holding up a food magazine from the mail as he came in from the garage. “Can we make this?”

“Sure,” he said, with a shrug. “What is it?” 

“Shepherd’s Pie,” he said, reading the cover. “It’s ground beef and stuff and mashed potatoes and cheese on top.”

Dean nodded, “OK, just remind me next weekend when we’re making a grocery list and we’ll try it.” Getting the bread as the toaster went off, he said, “Will you grab the peanut butter for me? We’re both hungry and some of us are cranky …” He laughed as his brother made a face and rolled his eyes. 

Bringing the peanut butter jar over, he bumped against him. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s all good, Sammy. I get it,” he said, hugging him quickly before spreading peanut butter and jelly on one slice and sliding it over. “Eat up and then let’s call Bobby to celebrate your amazing report card.” Quickly making his own piece, he leaned against the counter while they ate. “Do we need to do laundry tonight before we leave tomorrow?”

Sam thought for a minute and nodded, “Yeah, if you want me to bring jeans that don’t have stains on them or are kind of short.”

“OK,” he said, focusing on not sighing and feeling immediate guilt for not noticing that his brother’s jeans were getting worse for wear. “Maybe the birthday fairy will bring you new jeans in a couple of weeks.”

Sam made a face, “Or maybe we could just buy them and I can get something fun?” Taking a bite of his toast, he asked, “Are fairies even real? Have you ever seen one?”

He shrugged, “I honestly don’t know. Dad told me about changelings, which are sort of like fairies. You kill those by setting them on fire. And Dad and I hunted a redcap, which I think is a type of fairy, who was killing hitchhikers a couple of years ago. Remember when we were in Utah? You kill redcaps by wrapping them in iron and spraying them with holy water and it sort of dissolves them.”

“Yeah, in that weird town sort of near Salt Lake City.” Finishing his toast, he nodded slowly, thinking, “So I think we can put fairies in the firm Maybe column.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah. Sounds about right. Maybe we can do some research this summer and see if we can find one ourselves.”

He grinned, “That would be fun! I’ll ask Bobby tomorrow, maybe he’ll have an idea of what we can start researching or watching for. Like what kind of omens or signs you see when fairies are around.” He laughed, “Maybe lots of glitter left in places.”

Nudging his brother’s bookbag with his foot, he said, “Before it gets much later, call Bobby and tell him about your report card. You know he’s curious.” He grabbed his own bag and said, “I’m going upstairs to get rid of something before you find an excuse to go digging around.” Putting his bag on the counter, he reached out and grabbed Sam, tickling him, “As if the only place you could possible find a pen in this whole house would be my bookbag!”

“Dean! Stop!” he laughed, jerking away and laughing again. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Yeah, right,” he countered, letting him go with another quick squeeze. “Sure, you wouldn’t…” He grinned and shook his head. “I’m on to your tricks, squirt.” 

Sam grinned and quickly stuck out his tongue, laughing again. Picking up the phone, he dialed Bobby’s number. “Hey Bobby. How are you?”

Picking his bag back up, Dean walked upstairs, listening to his brother chat happily on the phone. He had been shocked when, just after Thanksgiving, the older man had asked them about report cards. It was something their dad rarely thought about and Dean hadn’t given any thought to simply signing both of theirs the day before, just one more chore to be taken care of, and never saying a word. Bobby had been notified by Sam’s Guidance Counselor who had called to see if he had any questions and was now clued into the schedule and that report cards even existed. Now, letting the older man see them had become a fun novel ritual for Sam and weirdly uncomfortable one for him. 

“Bobby said to give him a call when you’re free,” Sam said 10 minutes later when Dean came back downstairs. 

Dean nodded, tossing his own report card on the counter next to Sam’s and glancing at the clock. “Go get your Latin assignment for me, please and I’ll pull out stuff for the cornbread.” Ignoring his brother’s sigh and huff, he turned on the oven and begin pulling out ingredients. 

“Here,” he said a minute later, holding out two sheets of paper. “It’s boring but that’s what he wants.”

He nodded, “Thank you.” Glancing at the stuff on the counter, he said, “Think you can take it from here? The recipe is in the notebook.”

Sam smiled and nodded, “Yeah.” He laughed, moving into the kitchen and pulling a 3-ring binder with some of their favorite recipes from its place with the other cookbooks. “Since I’m cooking, does that mean you have to clean up?” He grinned, “Those are the rules, right?”

Dean laughed and nodded, “Yep, those are the rules and yes, I’ll clean tonight and even set the table since you’re cooking. The chili just needs to be heated up.” Moving out of the cooking area, he leaned against the island and began to skim the assignment. 

“Kind of boring, huh?” Sam said a couple of minutes later, not looking up as he stirred in the shredded cheese.

He shook his head and smiled, “No, not at all, Sam. I think it’s good and interesting. I like how you showed the real Latin phrase, what we say, and what both mean. I had no idea that ‘bonus’ was a Latin word.”

Sam smiled slightly and shrugged, “Thanks.” He glanced up and grinned, “Do you know what I was going to do instead and what I’m totally still doing and giving to him when school is out?”

Inwardly cringing that his brother remembered that toss off, feel good, idea he had proposed, Dean shook his head, “No, what? I know you were doing stuff at Bobby’s but that’s about it.”

Pouring the mixture into a baking dish, Sam grinned, “All the different Latin words for God and how each one is used and what they mean.”

Dean walked into the kitchen and opened the oven door. “There are that many different words for God? I thought it was basically always Deo?”

He shook his head and grinned, “Nope. There’s like 10 or 15 and even more if you want to include stuff like Christus and Domine when they are used in place of God.”

“Huh, yeah, you’re right,” he said with a smile, thinking. “Dei is used in several rituals.”

Sam laughed, “Yeah. It’s kind of cool when you start looking at it and looking at the translations and you can see why the different forms are used and when. And both when, like what time period something was written and when, like in what situation.”

He shook his head, “So smart, Sammy.”

Grinning, Sam nodded. “Yeah but that was ‘too complex’”, he said, putting air quotes around the words and making a face. “So instead, I get to explain how Bonus and ergo is used.” He set the timer on the oven and shrugged, “But it’s OK. I’m over it and know how to smile and make nice and not call attention to ourselves. It’s easier this way.”

“Yeah,” he said sadly. Then, smiled and bumped against his brother, deciding that he didn’t need to be a grown up 100% of the time and encouraging very low level push back was OK once in a while, “But not so over it that you’re not going to do your other project in all your spare time and give it to your teacher as you wave goodbye to middle school.”

“Damn straight,” he said and then laughed, leaning into Dean. 

He nodded, pulling him close for a second and ruffling his hair. “Damn straight is right.” He paused for a moment before saying slowly, “But I think this is something best kept between us. Just like we probably wouldn’t have told Dad …”

Sam grinned and nodded. “Yeah, for sure,” he said, interrupting. “Bobby doesn’t need to know.”

Picking up his report card from the counter, he said, “Speaking of which, I’m going to go call him.” He nodded toward the oven, “You good?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam sighed, “Yes, I can remember to remove the cornbread when the timer beeps and amazingly, I can heat up chili on the stove without burning the house down.”

“Good!” Dean said, laughing again and shaking his head. Heading into the office, he shut the door. “Hey Bobby,” he said, ripping open the envelope as the older man picked up the other line.

“I was wondering if I was going to have to chase you down,” the older man said dryly. 

He laughed, “No, just getting Sam situated. His play practice ran a bit late and then I had to get dinner started so that wasn’t too late and that stupid Latin thing is due tomorrow and I wanted to check on that.”

“Ah yes, the dreaded Latin project.”

“He actually did fine with it,” Dean confirmed and shook his head. “I swear, Bobby, all that drama for nothing. His other idea, the one he actually did is fine; it’s good even. Just … who knows what goes through his mind sometimes.”

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, not that you have much room to talk, kid.” He paused for a moment before sighing, “Fine, Dean, since you’re not as forth coming as your brother, I’m going to ask. How’s your report card looking this period?”

Glancing at the report card in front of him, Dean smiled slightly and said quietly, “All A’s except in physics which is kicking my butt and I have a mid B.” 

“Good. And what do your teachers’ comments say,” he asked calmly. 

He sighed, “Does it matter, Bobby?”

“Yes, it matters,” he said, making sure there was no impatience or frustration in his voice at the now familiar reluctance. When the older boy had dragged his feet in producing his report card in December when first asked, he had feared the worst, mentally preparing for how to deal with failing grades and trying to figure out how strict he should be given all that had happened in the fall. Instead, he had been shocked to see 4 A’s and 2 B’s and good comments from his teachers. The reluctance had continued with the end of semester report card and was now routine. 

“Mrs. Fitzgerald in Government says, ‘one of the top students in class’. Mr. Roberts in Calculus says, ‘displays a determination to conquer the subject and a very good student.” He paused, “Is that good enough?”

“Are there more?” Bobby asked, knowing there were usually three teacher comments. “I want to hear them all, Dean.”

“’Despite one homework assignment missing, a very conscientious student and a pleasure to have in class’, from Ms. May, in physics but I’m not sure what homework assignment she’s talking about,” he said. 

Bobby laughed lightly, “I’m not too concerned about it and that’s excellent! I’m proud of you and you should be proud, too.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, embarrassed by the praise and equally embarrassed by how much he appreciated it. “Schools going well and my teachers seem to like me.”

“What do you want to do to celebrate?” he asked. “To the shock of no one, your brother wants to go to the Family Farms’ Ice Cream store. I told him I’d take him on Saturday night, when we get home.”

“That works for me,” he said. “I don’t care.”

Biting back a sigh, Bobby said, “No. That’s not how this works and you know it.”

Dean was quiet for a moment before saying, “You’re coming with me to his play Thursday night, right?”

“Right.”

“I have to drop him off for the afternoon play on Saturday but wasn’t planning on staying. Maybe we could go to Slate’s for a late lunch, like around 1:30, and then work at your house on something? They are having a wrap party afterwards so I won’t have to get him until around 7:00 and Slate’s has the best burgers. Does that work for you?”

Bobby chuckled, “A wrap party, huh? I think Slate’s and my house is perfect. Think about if you want work on the Impala together, we could go ahead and pull the winter tires and see what else needs to be tweaked, or if you want to work on something different I’ve got in house.”

In the office, Dean smiled at the idea. “The Impala would be great. I appreciated your help when we worked on it last time and you helped me change out the brake discs and pads. Sam and I were talking about some road trips this summer. Except for the Farmer’s Market stall with Glenn, I don’t have any firm plans for the summer.”

“Well, mark your calendar then, kid and we’ll celebrate your great report card.”

Hanging up the phone a minute later, Dean twisted back and forth slightly in the desk chair. He knew their dad cared about grades and if he was home when report cards were delivered, Sam might mention it to him which would naturally lead to his own being asked about. But, in reality, the timing had to be exactly right and that was rare. Good grades were important because it kept anyone from questioning too much or looking too closely or requesting meetings. It didn’t matter if those good grades were reported at the top of a paper or test or every 6 weeks on a dedicated piece of paper … they were expected and demanded, regardless. 

“Off the phone, Dean?” Sam asked, knocking on the office door.

“Yeah, come on in.” He smiled as his brother walked in, “Dinner almost ready?”

He grinned and said, “Yep, like 5 minutes but the table needs to be set.”

Getting up and grabbing his report card, Dean laughed, bumping against him as he walked out the door. “Well, since that’s my job, let me get too it. Don’t want to be shirking my responsibilities.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “Nope!”

Passing the card off to his brother, he said, “Do me a favor, please. Put this up on the fridge with yours while I set the table. You know Bobby will look for it when he comes by tomorrow.” 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Pastor Jim!” Sam called, waving as he got out of the back of the Impala Friday evening and saw the pastor coming out of the large parsonage across the street from the church. 

Hugging the younger boy first, he laughed and said, “Good to see you boys!” Then to Dean as he hugged him, “And what are you feeding your baby brother? He’ll be taller than you by the end of the summer if he keeps growing.”

Dean laughed, hugging the other man back. “Yeah, I’m thinking about cutting him back to one meal a day.”

“Good thinking!” he agreed before waving to Bobby, who had gotten out of the passenger seat and now grabbing their 2 bags from the Impala’s trunk. “Come on in and get comfortable.” Leading the way back up the walkway, he said, “Bobby, you’re in the front upstairs bedroom and boys, you’re in the upstairs bedroom you always stay in.” He glanced at Dean and asked, “Unless you’d rather have your own room?”

He shook his head, “No, I don’t mind sharing with Sam.”

“Figured you’d say that,” he said with a quick smile, walking into the house. Draping an arm across Dean’s shoulder, he said, “It’s good seeing, kid. I’m glad you both are doing well.”  
Dean nodded as they went up the stairs, “Yeah, we are. School is going well for both of us and the house is great.”  
“It’s a great house,” he confirmed, stepping into the bedroom. He had visited several times in the fall to see John and then in mid-November and had gotten a quick tour. Glancing behind him, he said quietly, “You know I’m always here to listen if you need to talk, Dean; you or Sam or both. Helping people understand and deal with the loss of someone is a big part of my job.”  
“Yeah, I know and thank you,” Dean confirmed. “But I don’t know that it’s necessary. Sam is fine, I’m fine. We’re good.”

Jim nodded, holding up his hands slightly, “Then great! If you change your mind or if you think it would do either one of you some good, the offer and door is always open.”

Dean studied him for a moment before nodding, “I appreciate it. But seriously, we’re good.”

“Then we will just have a fun visit,” he said with a smile. Bumping against the other man, he grinned, “And I hope you brought your wallet because my cards are red hot right now.”

He laughed, shaking his head and smiled as Sam came into the room, carrying their bag. “Sammy, Pastor Jim thinks he can beat me at cards. What do you think?”

Sam laughed, dropping their bag on his bed and shook his head. “No way, Pastor Jim. You and Bobby can team up against Dean and me and we’ll totally win.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said with a shake of his head. “And,” glancing at Dean for a second, he leaned closer to the younger boy, “have you ever thrown an axe?”

He grinned, “Cool, no.”

“An axe?” Dean asked. “Seriously?”

“Well, really more like a hatchet, especially for Sam here, but it’s a lot of fun.”

Glancing at his brother, Sam grinned. “Can we try it?”

“Sure,” Dean said with a shrug. “But if you lose a foot or a hand, don’t come crying to me because you miss your play. And if you’re actively bleeding, you’re not getting in the car. Blood is a major hassle to get out of leather.”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed. 

Dean slowly shook his head and grinned at the older man. “What does it say about me that I just casually agreed to my 13 year old brother throwing an axe around?” Giving a small laugh he said, “Stupidest or coolest brother ever?”

“Coolest brother ever and I’m almost 14,” Sam countered, bumping against him and laughing again.

Jim laughed, “Well, considering I’m the responsible adult who suggested it …” He shrugged, “But he’s got to learn how to do it. Axes come in handy.”

Sam grinned, “Right, you can take down a lot of things by cutting off its head.”

The older man nodded, “Exactly. So, drop your bags and come on down to the kitchen. We’ll get something to drink, order pizza delivery, and I want to hear all about your play, Sam.”

“The boys seem OK to me, Bobby,” Jim said softly as he rinsed the dinner plates several hours later. 

The other man smiled and nodded. “Yeah, they are. Still some rough times but all in all, it’s OK.” He sighed slightly, leaning his back against the counter so he looked at his friend before saying, “I just worry about Dean and the pressure he puts on himself. You should see the house, the schedule Dean keeps them on, the cooking, everything. Neat as a pin, well organized almost from day one, perfection. Plus, of course, schoolwork.”

“John would have expected nothing else,” he said.

“John would have demanded nothing less,” Bobby corrected. “And it wouldn’t dawn on that boy to expect anything else or do anything less.”

Pushing into the kitchen, Sam smiled, “We got the cards and a score pad. Dean wants to know if you guys are hiding in the kitchen to avoid getting beaten.”

“We’re in the kitchen cleaning up your mess!” Bobby yelled in the direction of the living room. “You can come in here and help if you want!”

Appearing in the doorway behind his brother a moment later, Dean grinned. “Why didn’t you say something?” He nodded toward the sink, “Go help, Sam.”

Sam eyed him, protesting, “Me? Bobby told you to help!”

“I’ll supervise,” he said. “You wash and stack.”

Jim laughed, “Luckily, we’re done but you two are on popcorn duty later … making and cleaning up. And I mean in a pan, on the stove, none of that crap microwave stuff that tastes like packing peanuts.” Picking up a towel from the counter, he dried his hands and smiled at them.

“I’ve never eaten packing peanuts,” Sam said with a straight face and then yelped, jumping out of the way with a laugh as the older man flicked the towel at him.

“Go on, smart ass, we’ll see who’s laughing after Bobby and I cream you both at cards.”

Watching them leave, Bobby shook his head at the other man. “Good kids but they are a mess sometimes.”

Jim grinned and nodded, “Yeah but they’re fun.”

“They are,” he confirmed. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“This is so cool,” Sam said, grinning as they stood in front of the wooden targets the next morning after Pastor Jim had shown him how to throw. “Are we playing teams again?”

Picking up a hatchet, Dean grinned, “Yeah, come on guys … you want to try to get revenge after the beating we gave you last night, right?”

“I think I’ll consider it a win if you two morons manage not to cut yourselves,” Bobby said dryly. “I’m really not sure about this, Jim … guns and bows are one thing but this seems like a disaster waiting to happen.”

Jim shook his head, “Promise, it’s safe enough. Our youth groups come out here often enough and yeah, a few minor cuts from kids screwing around but nothing serious.” Eyeing Sam and Dean for a moment before saying, “And I know your father taught you how to handle weapons responsibly and not treat them like toys.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean confirmed with a nod. Turning his attention to Bobby he said, “Come on, Bobby, you know I’ve handled this kind of stuff since I was younger than Sam. Ruffling his brother’s hair, he added, “And we might as well find out now if Sammy here is going to be in the running for the Darwin Awards or Safety Sam Awards before we devote more money feeding him.” 

Jerking away, Sam rolled his eyes and said, “I can do it. I won’t get hurt and I promise to be careful, Bobby.”

He nodded, “OK but no screaming and whining if someone loses a finger.”

Sam laughed, “You’re nicer than Dean! He said I couldn’t complain even if I lost a foot!”

Bobby glared at the younger man, “Really?”

Picking up a hatchet, Dean grinned and shrugged, “So, Sam and I against you two?”

“Fine,” Bobby said, glancing at Jim. “You know we have to win, right, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jim laughed, “Don’t worry, I’ve been playing with the kids since we installed this set up a year ago. We’ve got it.”

Dean winked at his brother, whispering, “Famous last words, huh, Sammy?”

Sam laughed and nodded. “Yep.”

“Show us what you’ve got, kid,” Jim said to Dean.

Taking a deep breath and thinking back to the lessons their dad had taught him over the years, he walked up to the line and then took a step back. In one fluid motion, he stepped forward and slug the hatchet overhead, watching as it spun end over end once before embedding itself firmly in the outer edge of the first ring. Turning around, he grinned and gave a small bow before walking back to Sam and trading high fives.

“We still got this?” Bobby asked with a laugh, walking up to his line. He groaned a second later as the axe bounced off the wooden board after hitting it at a slight angle.

Walking up with Sam a moment later, Dean handed his brother a slightly smaller hatchet. “Hold it like this, Sammy,” he said. “Remember how Dad taught you to swing a machete?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, right hand on top, thumb up …”

“Yep, perfect,” he said softly, adjusting his brother’s hands slightly. “Then measure out your step back and in one smooth motion.” Stepping back, he said, “You’ve got it.” Glancing to his side, he grinned as he saw the other two men watching him and shrugged. 

Taking a deep breath, Sam swung and then gasped as the hatchet buried itself into the edge of the board, outside the rings but still embedded firmly. “Cool!” he laughed.

“So close!” Dean said, clapping. “Got it to stick on the first try.” Motioning toward the other board, he said, “Pastor Jim?”

Without a backward glance, Jim casually walked up and in one smooth motion and seemingly without a pause to even center himself, he launched the hatchet and grinned as it embedded itself in the dead center of the first ring. He grinned as he walked back and said casually, meeting Dean’s eye, “That’s how it’s done, boy.” Then to Bobby, “Yeah, we got this.”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “We may be in a bit of trouble, Sam.”

Sam laughed, saying, “You think?”

“Ha!” Bobby cried twenty minutes later as Pastor Jim’s axe landed squarely in their final target, completing their game.

Next to him, Sam groaned dramatically, clutching his stomach and crying, “Nooooo!”

Dean laughed, shaking his head and held up a hand for a high five as the older man passed by, “Congratulations Pastor Jim! Well played!”

He laughed, grasping the offered hand and giving it a squeeze, pulling Dean in for a quick hug. “Excellent try, kid. Practice a bit and I bet you’ll really give me a run for my money next time.”

“Hey!” Dean protested, still laughing, “we were close! We did give you a run for your money!” He pointed toward the score board where he and Sam had racked up 4 of the needed 6 pointes. “That’s not a slaughter!” 

“Right!” Sam protested. “We were close!”

Bobby laughed, shaking his head and bumping up against the younger boy. “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, Sam.” 

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “You totally need to put one of these up at your place, Bobby.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m still not convinced that one of you yahoos won’t manage to cut off a finger or embed one of these things into your shin.” He smiled and said, “I’m supposed to be a responsible adult, you know.”

“And yet you have no problem with me and Sam shooting guns,” Dean countered with a grin.

“Well, you’ve been doing that for a decade and your brother for a solid five years, I figure if you were stupid with them, your dad would have beaten it out of you both long before you came under my watch,” Bobby countered. 

“Point,” Dean said. 

Sam grinned, “So you’ll think about it at least? Please?”

Jim laughed, “How can you say no to that face, Bobby?”

“Easy,” he countered and grinned. Nodding toward the hatchets, he said to Sam, “Why don’t you help your brother carefully wipe those things down and put them back in the shed. As the winners, Pastor Jim and I deserve a break and a nice quiet cup of coffee.”

Picking up one of the hatchets, Dean said, “Come on, Sammy, let the old folks savor their brief moment of victory.” He grinned at the round of protests as the two older men walked back to the house.

“Want us to pick you up something, Dean?” Sam asked. 

Dean nodded, “That would be great. Two scoops please of something that looks good.” He smiled at Bobby who was standing behind his brother. “Have fun!” They had gotten home mid-afternoon and, pathetically he felt, he was looking forward to his brother and Bobby being gone so he could get laundry started and have a few minutes of peace and quiet. 

Bobby smiled, “Vanilla it is!” Patting Sam on the back, he said, “Ready to go celebrate your kick ass report card?”

Sam nodded, “Yep.” He grinned, saying, “See you in an hour or so!” Glancing at Bobby for a second, he said, “And I’ll make sure we don’t get your vanilla!”

Watching them leave, Dean felt the same twinge of sadness overlaid by satisfaction at the oh so normal ritual being carried. Tiredly going upstairs, he quickly rooted through both hampers, pulling out enough shirts for a load and lugging them downstairs. Sitting down on the sofa after getting the load started, he closed his eyes and let the sadness overtake him, relishing the freedom that came from being alone in the house and knowing he could cry in private without the worry of Sam hearing. 

OOooOOooOOoo

Bouncing nervously in his seat, Sam asked as they pulled up to the school early Thursday evening, “You know it starts at 7:00, right?”

“Yes,” Dean confirmed with a smile. “And I know you come in from Stage Right …”

“Which is your left,” he said, interrupting. 

“Right,” Dean said and then grinned as his brother started to correct him before getting the joke. “I got it, Sammy. Bobby and I will be there in plenty of time, I promise and we’ll sit where you can see us, if you want to look.” Reaching over, he ruffled his brother’s hair, “You’ve got it down cold. Go have fun and break a leg.”

Sam grinned and took another deep breath before getting out of the car and walking toward the auditorium. 

Watching him for a moment to make sure he got into the building OK, Dean was glad to see Ray walking up too. Spying the familiar mini van parked several spots over, he waved to Agnes. Pulling the car closer, he rolled down the window as she did the same. 

“Hey Dean! How’s Sam tonight?”

He grinned, “He’s good. How’s Ray handling all the excitement and nerves?”

Laughing, she shook her head. “Better than me, actually, but don’t tell him I said that. Are you coming tonight?”

“Of course! And our uncle will be there, too,” he confirmed. 

“Oh good!” she said. “I’ve heard so much about Bobby from Sam, I’m looking forward to meeting him.” Glancing at the clock, she said, “I need to scoot and get dinner ready for Raymond and Justin, but we’ll see you tonight.”

He nodded, letting her pull out in front of his car before slowly following her to the main road and turning in the opposite direction. Pulling into their driveway a few minutes later, he smiled at the sight of Bobby’s truck already there. “Hey!” he called a minute later, walking into the kitchen, slightly surprised to see the sliding glass door open. 

Coming in from the porch, Bobby smiled. “Kid all dropped off?”

Dean nodded, “Yep. And I told him we’d be there in plenty of time so …” He glanced at the clock and saw it was just past 5:30, “We’ll leave here around 6:20. Play starts at 7:00.” Studying the older man for a second, he smiled, “You look nice all cleaned up.”

Glancing down at his pressed gray slacks and black sweater, he shrugged. “Figured Rob Greenberg, State Forensic Accountant’s look would be nice and respectable for tonight. He grinned as Dean laughed, before asking, “How’s he doing?”

He nodded, “He’s good but nervous but also really excited.” Opening the refrigerator, he said, “How does chicken and pasta soup sound for dinner? I wanted something easy to heat up and wasn’t sure what Sam would want before I had to drop him off.”

Leaning against the counter, Bobby nodded. “Sounds good. Did you make it yourself?”

Dean made a face at him, “Of course! It’s just soup, it’s easy. But, I used store bought stock and broth, I didn’t make that myself. And the rolls are frozen.”

Holding his hands to his mouth in mock horror, he gasped. “Store bought stock and broth! Dean! I just don’t know if my standards can sink that low …”

He laughed again, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s a real stretch. Have a seat if you want and keep me company while I get everything started and then I’ll run upstairs and change, too.” Moving effortlessly around the kitchen he asked, “What were you doing out on the porch?”

“Looking to see what sort of space you boys had out back in the yard. Sam was asking me if I knew how to plant vegetables and I told him I’d help build some raised beds.”

Dean groaned, hanging his head. “Really? I thought he had forgotten about that idea.” He shook his head slightly, “Just what I need, more crap to manage.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “What is my brother’s brilliant plan?”

Bobby laughed, “Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ll take care of it and I’ve already got a plan and will make it a birthday present for him. Speaking of which, what are the birthday plans for next week?”

“I asked him if he wanted to do stuff with friends, movie or bowling or having them over here to watch videos and sleep over, but he didn’t,” Dean said with a shrug. “I’m not even sure any of them know it’s his birthday and didn’t push.”

“Might not be the right time for him,” he said slowly. “We’ll celebrate like we did your birthday, then? My house? Burgers, cake, presents?”

“Thanks,” Dean said with a smile. “That’s all he wants, I think. Or at least that’s all he’s in the mood for. I’ll either make a cake or buy one but I’ll take care of it.” 

He nodded, “Sounds good.” Changing the subject, he asked, “Given any thought to what we’re doing to on Saturday with the Impala?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, actually.”

Walking into the already crowded auditorium just after 6:30, Dean led them to the area he wanted. “These are perfect,” he said, dropping his coat on one of the seats.” Waving to several other parents he knew, he sighed and said, “Do you mind if I go say Hi to some of the other parents I know?” He gave a small shrug and said, “Part of the illusion, you know? Responsible adult, just like them, not a … kid?”

Bobby grinned, “Go, make nice and I’ll watch the seats.” He glanced around the hall and shook his head, “Place is filling up. Have to say, I thought you were being a bit paranoid wanting to get here so early but clearly not.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah, I know. It’s crazy. At least I didn’t bring a camcorder.”

He watched the younger man walk away before turning his attention to the program. Flipping through, he smiled as he saw Sam’s picture and felt an immediate flash of pride at how the year had turned out, even as he privately acknowledged it had little to do with him or his actions.

“Bobby,” Dean said, coming back to their seats a few minutes later with two women. “I want to introduce you to Meredith, Jason’s mom, and Millie, Jason’s aunt. She moved here several months ago from Ohio.”

He stood up and smiled, shaking their hands. “So nice to meet you both.”

Meredith smiled, “And it’s wonderful to meet you, too. Sam talks about you so much, it’s wonderful to put a face to a name after so long.”

The other woman patted Dean’s arm, saying, “Both of your nephews are so nice young men. You must be so proud.”

“I am,” he confirmed, smiling as he saw Dean blush slightly. 

“Agnes!” Dean called, waving as another woman walked toward them. Then to Bobby, “Ray’s mom.”

“Hi everyone,” she said and then held out her hand, “you must be the famous Bobby that Sam talks about.”

He laughed, “Well, the Bobby part is right at least. It’s nice to meet you.” Glancing between them, he said, “Ray and Jason have been wonderful friends to Sam this year, it’s really helped a lot.”

“He’s such a sweetheart,” Agnes said. She grinned at Dean for a second before turning back to Bobby and saying, “Both of your nephews are. They do your family proud.” She glanced up where Raymond, her husband, sat and said, “It’s so nice to see brothers so close. We tried but Justin, who is one of Ray’s older brothers and still in high school, absolutely refused to come tonight.” 

Meredith sighed, “I’m sorry, Agnes. I bet it’ll get better in a few years. Millie and I weren’t close at all when we were growing up.” She glanced at her sister and said, “And now I’m thrilled that she’s renting the house next door and is over all the time!”

Millie smiled at Bobby, “Are you their uncle on their mother’s side or father’s side?”

“Mother’s side,” Bobby said, sticking to the well-practiced lie. “Mary was my sister.”

“Well, maybe we can get together for coffee one day and you can give me some tips on how to be a great aunt to a high schooler,” she said with a grin. 

He bowed his head slightly, “I’d like that. I’ve lived here for years and since you’re new, maybe I can show you around a bit.” Passing over the program, he said, “If you have a pen, you can jot down your number …”

Dean stared at Bobby for a moment and then felt a flash of relief as the lights flashed. “Oh, what a shame to break this up but …” Sitting down a minute later, he made a face at the other man. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He grinned, folding the program up and tucking it into his pants’ pocket. “What’s the matter, kid?”

“I … I … just please, let’s never speak of this again,” he said finally and laughed. “I accidently walked into a bar last year and saw Dad making out with some lady and that set me back years. I can’t handle anything else.”

Bobby laughed, “I’m sure your dad was just as horrified.”

“He was!” Dean confirmed with a laugh, adding “and pissed that I went into a bar looking for him.”

Glancing at him, he asked, “Why did you go in?”

Dean swallowed and shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “I just needed him,” he said finally. “It’s not like he wasn’t going to come home or anything but I needed the car and he had the keys and stuff.” 

As with many of Dean’s stories or off-handed comments, Bobby wanted to ask questions, probe deeper and find out the truth. And, as almost always, he let it drop, knowing that nothing good would come out of forcing the younger man to talk about things he’d rather not discuss. Instead, he would learn to clam up and simply stop talking to Bobby all together. Simply laughing, he said, “Well, at 16 or 17, I don’t blame your dad for being annoyed at you being in there. Sure there was lots of stuff going on he didn’t want you to see.”

He laughed, “As if anything shocks me, even then.”

Saved from deciding how to comment by the lights dimming, Bobby settled into his seat and chuckled slightly as Principal Pagett and an older woman walked onto the stage. “Your buddy,” he said drying.

“Yep,” Dean confirmed. Grinning, he glanced at Bobby, “Is it wrong that I hope he says something stupid?” Clapping politely a minute later after the brief introductions and words, Dean shifted in his seat, suddenly nervous for his brother as a boy dressed in a brown three piece suit stepped out onto the stage. 

“I can’t believe that kid had to memorize all this stuff,” Bobby whispered halfway through the opening dialogue. 

“I know,” Dean said. “Oh, that’s Jason, Sam’s friend,” he said a moment later as another boy appeared on stage, throwing imaginary newspapers. 

Bobby nodded, “Thanks.”

Ten minutes later, Dean shifted and whispered, “Sam is coming out in another minute or so.”

He smiled, sensing how nervous Dean was and just nodded. He smiled broadly and had to stop himself from laughing as Sam appeared in a dark suit, complete with a wide ribbon on his chest and pince-nez glasses perched on his nose. Glancing at Dean he saw the other man biting his lower lip slightly. 

Dean chuckled slightly as Sam rocked back and forth on his heals, hands lightly grasping his jacket lapels as he pretended to think about how to describe Grover’s Corners. 

“I’m impressed he got through all that,” Bobby whispered as Sam excited the stage a minute later.

Letting out the breath he had been holding, he grinned, “Yeah, he did good, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Bobby confirmed. Settling back in his seat, he couldn’t help but wish John were there next to them.

Two hours later, standing in the parking lot chatting with parents, Dean grinned as he saw Sam come out of the side door. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping away and waving to Bobby who was chatting with Jason’s aunt. 

“What did you think?” Sam asked, grinning as he got to them.

“You were great, Sammy!” Dean cried, pulling him into a quick hug. “Didn’t even think about bringing out the tomatoes I smuggled in.”

Sam laughed, “You did not.”

Winking, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out two slightly squashed cherry tomatoes and laughed. 

His brother gasped at him and then laughed out loud, bumping against him. 

“What is that?” Bobby asked, staring at the small tomatoes. “Have you had those in your pocket the whole time?”

Dean laughed, “Of course. I had to be prepared in case our budding thespian here bombed badly.”

“I …” Bobby started and then gently hit Dean upside the head, laughing. “I don’t even know where to start, boy.” 

Sam laughed, “Ha! Told you Bobby wouldn’t let you use them!”

Dean grabbed him around the middle, tickling him, “But you were brilliant so I never even thought about it.” Letting him go, he said, “Ready?”

Waving bye to several other kids, Sam nodded, “Yep. Can we stop at Dairy Queen though, on the way home?”

“That’s not remotely on the way home and it’s a school night,” Dean countered and then grinned. “But yeah, I think that sounds good. A great performance like that totally deserves a Peanut Buster Parfait.”

Waking up just after midnight, Dean sleepily moved over in his bed to make room for Sam to join him. Tugging the blankets back over them, he said, “Everything OK, Sammy?”

The younger boy nodded and sniffled, “Yeah … just …thinking about Dad. I wish he was here.”

“I know,” he said evenly, rolling onto his side and pulling him close. “Me too. He would have loved to see you up there and be really proud.”

“You don’t think he’d find it stupid?” he asked quietly. “It’s not hunting or weapons or anything that could help with anything important.”

Closing his eyes for a second and pushing down a rush of anger at their father, he shook his head and kissed his brother’s head. “I know for a fact he wouldn’t have found it stupid, at all. He would have been proud and happy that you’re having a good time.” Laughing softly, he added, “Next time you talk to Bobby, ask him how much acting he’s done over the years on various jobs. I bet you’ll find out that these skills will come in real handy.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Looking up as Dean slid into the booth of the burger restaurant Saturday afternoon, Bobby smiled. “Perfect timing, I just ordered some onion rings and drinks.”

Dean grinned, “Good, because I’m starving! Sam didn’t want lunch before I dropped him off but, of course, he changed his mind like two minutes before we had to walk out the door so I had to make him a quick sandwich to eat in the car. But, between wrangling him and normal weekend chores, it’s been slammed.”

Bobby laughed, “Well, take a breath. The kid is dropped off and we’ll have some fun this afternoon getting the Impala tuned up and new tires.” He leaned back as the waitress delivered food and drinks. “How did last night’s performance go?”

He laughed, “Don’t tell Sam but I went in, watched him, and then sat in the car and studied for a test next week.” Smiling, he said, “I wanted to make sure he did OK but certainly didn’t want to watch the whole thing again. The car was nice, quiet, and had less distractions than at home.”

Raising his glass, the older man chinked it slightly against Dean’s and said, “And that’s why you have such great grades and wonderful comments on your report card.”

Dean shrugged, saying, “It’s easier and less trouble to do well in school. No attention, no notes, no questions ….” He smiled, grabbing an onion ring and turning his attention to the menu before asking, “What are you getting?”

“Well, even if you don’t care and want to blow it off,” Bobby said evenly, “I’m proud of you and your grades and how well you’re handling everything.” He smiled as Dean glanced up and meet his eyes, “I’m serious, Dean. You can say you don’t care but I care and am damn proud.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, dropping his eyes again to his menu. “I think I’m going to get the Roadhouse, got to love bacon,” he said after a long minute.

Bobby nodded, knowing he couldn’t push, “Bacon is always good.” After placing their orders, he said, “Excited about Glenn’s job? That starts in a couple of weeks, right?”

Dean grinned, “Yeah, the 17th. We talked the other night when Sam and I swung by his shop to pick up his price list and we’re going to meet a few days before, so I get familiar with stuff.” Taking a sip of his coke, he said softly, leaning in, “You should see this spear he’s sharpening right now. There’s hardened lava stone running down the length of it and at the tip. It’s razor sharp.”

“Obsidian?” Bobby asked. “Black or really dark, at least?” When Dean nodded, he smiled, “So Glenn is probably helping someone kill a piasa … haven’t seen one of those in ages. Nasty things though!” He grinned and shook his head, “Good luck to whoever is going after that thing.”

“A piasa? What’s that?” 

Glancing around them, Bobby said, “The name comes from an Indian word that means the bird that devours men, if that helps at all. The few I’ve heard about were all Iowa, Missouri, that area, along the Mississippi and Illinois Rivers.” Grabbing another onion ring, he shook his head, “Never heard of one around here but who knows.”

Dean nodded, “Cool. And you kill them with a knife made from this obsidian?” He grinned, “I should get one of those, then. Sam and I were talking about road trips this summer! Did Dad ever hunt one?”

“I’m not sure if your father did or not. We both knew a hunter who tangled with one and won, barely, but they’re rare and dangerous. You should leave it alone and not go poking your nose into something that’s out of your league.” Eyeing the younger man, he said firmly, “I’m serious Dean. These are not things you want to go messing with.”

Slowly smiling, he nodded, holding up his hands, “I know and don’t worry. I have no plans on doing anything stupid or dangerous for another four years and certainly not with Sam in tow.” 

“Or you know, maybe even longer,” Bobby said with a grin. “Speaking of your brother, any idea why he was asking me about fairies?”

Dean laughed, “Did he really? What did you tell him?” He grinned, “And did you tell him that glitter is involved?”

The other man laughed and shook his head. “Would glitter be a positive or a negative?”

Coming down the stairs after taking a shower and changing clothes after working on the Impala all afternoon, Dean said, as he walked into the kitchen, “I’m heading out. I need to pick up Sam around 7:00 and it’s almost 6:30 now.”

“Do you have stuff for dinner or do you want to take something with you?” Bobby asked and then laughed, moving closer to the door where Dean was standing. “Never mind, I’m sure you have it covered. I’ve seen your master plan, menu, and nicely organized refrigerator.”

Dean grinned and nodded, “Yeah. I have soup still at the house from earlier in the week but Sam and I might stop someplace so he can get desert and I’ll get food.” Swallowing, he glanced at the floor for a minute before looking up. “Can I tell you something without you making it a big deal or anything?” he asked quietly. 

He nodded, “Of course, kid. You can tell or ask me anything. What’s up?” Trying not to appear worried, he mentally braced himself.

“I …” Hesitating for a moment, he closed his eyes briefly before starting again. “I just wanted to say I really like that you ask about report cards and care about grades and are proud of how I’m doing in school. And proud, I think, because it’s about me and not just proud because it keeps people from looking at me or us or our situation too closely. And I like sort of celebrating and doing something, just you and me, and what I want to do.” Meeting Bobby’s eyes for a second, he shrugged, “I just was thinking about it and wanted to tell you that … I guess.”

“Thank you,” Bobby said with a smile. Reaching out, he hugged the younger man, “I like it too and am very proud of you. I’m glad you had fun, I did too.”

Dean nodded, giving a quick smile. “I need to go but next Friday, if not before?”

“Yep, I’ll see you both then and break out the party hats.” Hugging him again, he nodded, “Have a good night, drive carefully.”

Dean smiled, “Thanks again … for everything.”

OOooOOooOOoo


	9. Chapter 9: May

May 1997

Glancing up from the lunch he was packing the next Friday morning, Dean grinned as Sam came down the steps. “Happy Birthday, Sammy!”

He laughed and smiled, “Thanks!”

“Bobby’s tonight and presents and then just you and me doing stuff … it’s going to be a great weekend!” Dean confirmed, giving his brother a quick hug as he roamed into the kitchen. “I’m almost through with this if you want to grab the cereal and make us breakfast.”

Glancing at the table, Sam looked at his brother and smiled broadly, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” 

Sam laughed, walking over to the table and picking up the wrapped box sitting at his place. Picking it up, he shook it and grinned. “I thought presents were with Bobby tonight?” he asked, shaking it.

Dean shrugged, “I have no idea what that is. Your presents from me are coming tonight at Bobby’s, like we planned.”

Looking at him for a moment, Sam shook his head and laughed. “So, you’re saying you don’t know what this is?”

He grinned and shrugged, “Maybe the birthday fairy left it.”

Sam laughed, sitting down and unwrapped the gift. Opening the box, he laughed, pulling out two new pair of jeans. “Dean! Jeans? Really?”

He laughed, wiping his hands and coming over. Ruffling his brother’s hair, he laughed, “Hey, don’t look at me! The birthday fairy left them, not me!” Grabbing his brother, he hauled him up and gave him a kiss on the top of the head before tickling him, “And what’s the matter, squirt? You certainly need new ones the way you’re growing.”

Sam laughed, twisting away and laughing more, “Stop it, Dean! Stop!” 

Letting him go with a final squeeze, Dean shouted into the air, “Thank you birthday fairy! You saved me from having to take my bratty baby brother shopping!”

He laughed, putting the jean down and grinned. Rolling his eyes, Sam shouted, “Thank you birthday fairy! You saved me from having to go shopping with my ornery older brother!”

Dean laughed, “Ornery, huh? I’ll show you ornery!” Grabbing him again, he laughed as Sam tried to twist away but he held tight. Tickling him briefly, he stopped and gave him a hard hug and said firmly, “Happy Birthday, Sam. We’re going to have a great weekend.”

He grinned and nodded, hugging his brother back. “Thanks, Dean.” Not letting go for a long moment, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah,” he repeated softly.

“Yeah,” he said back, not letting go until he felt Sam release. “You can try those on later but right now, we need cereal and milk and blueberries and to keep moving before we’re late.”

“Hey Bobby!” Sam yelled, pushing into the kitchen after school. “We brought cake!” Putting the cake carrier down on the counter, he yelled again, “Bobby! We’re here!” 

Coming down the stairs, Bobby smiled, “Yeah, like I couldn’t hear that car coming up the driveway. And I’m glad you brought cake, because all I was planning was burgers and onion rings and you can’t have a birthday without cake.” Coming into the kitchen, he hugged the younger boy, “Happy Birthday, kid!”

He smiled, “Thanks!” 

“What kind did you all make?”

Sam motioned toward the counter, “Devil’s Food with chocolate sour cream frosting. We made it last night. The cake is from a box but we added extra stuff so it’s not just a box mix.”

Bobby laughed, “Alrighty then. That sounds excellent and like a lot of chocolate but it’s cake, so hey … why not.” Opening the screened door for Dean, he said, “Need help?”

Dean shook his head and motioned to toward the car, “No, Sam will go get our bag. Right, Sammy?”

Sighing dramatically, he walked toward the car.

“Presents,” he said, holding up a shopping bag. “Living room?”

Bobby nodded, “That’s where I put mine. I figured we’d open in there … more room.” Following Dean into the living room, he asked quietly, “Good day?”

Glancing behind him, he saw Sam heading upstairs carrying their duffle, and nodded, “Yeah, I think so. We had a good morning and then he seemed OK, maybe a little quiet, when I picked him up at school.”

“Good,” the other man confirmed, watching Dean unpack the presents. 

Glancing up at the ceiling ten minutes later, Dean said, “I’m going to go check on him.”

Bobby nodded, “Good idea.”

Walking upstairs, Dean was surprised not to see Sam in their room. “Sammy?” he called, moving toward the bathroom. The door to the room their father had used was open and he peaked in and saw Sam laying on the bed. Coming into the room, he sat down on the bed, saying quietly, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Toeing off his sneakers, he laid down behind his brother but didn’t say anything. 

Rolling over, Sam curled up slightly against him and was quiet.

“Did Dad ever tell you how excited I was when you were born?” Dean asked several long minutes later, remembering Sam’s comments about their private time together.

Sam shook his head, “No but when I was laying in here, I was thinking about him and about the stories he told me this fall. He told me he and Mom were really happy and thrilled I was a boy because he said he wouldn’t know what to do with a girl but he didn’t say anything about you.” 

Dean laughed, “Yeah, a sister would have been different for sure.” Squeezing his brother gently, he said, “I was so excited to wake up that Monday morning and find Miss Rosemary, who was this old lady who lived next door to us, at the old house, instead of Mom and Dad. I’m not sure when or what time they left but they had called her and she came over at some point. She woke me up and I didn’t go to school that morning.”

He laughed softly, “Were you more excited about me coming or not having to go to school?”

“At four and a half, school was easy and fun,” he countered. “But I remember sitting in the living room watching Scooby-Doo and Dad came in some time that day and took me to the hospital to see you and Mom. I was so excited, Sammy. I sat next to Mom in bed and she let me hold you. You were so tiny, it’s hard to imagine now, looking at you.”

Sam laughed. “Did you like me right away?”

Kissing the top of his head, Dean said firmly, “Dude, I loved you right away and told you then that I’d always have your back and was trusting you to always have mine.” He laughed, “I remember Dad, or maybe Mom, making some sort of joke about how we’d be a dangerous duo when we got older and they both laughed about that.” He didn’t actually remember that comment but their dad had told him about it several times, laughing each time he told the story.

“I miss him, Dean, so much,” Sam said softly after a long moment. “But I’d miss you more if something happened to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” he said firmly. “Nothing, I promise.” Pulling back, he said with a grin, “And how could it, with you watching my back? We’ll have a good weekend celebrating your birthday and then just a few more weeks of school and then a fun summer break.”

Sam sighed, “Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, he sat up and said with a small smile, “And we’ll keep moving because that’s what Dad would want us to do.”

Sitting up, Dean hugged him again, “Exactly.” He smiled, standing up, “Come on, squirt. You’ve got presents to open and burgers to eat and I can’t wait to see how our cake turned out.”

“The batter was good,” Sam said, allowing himself to be pulled off the bed.

“Damn straight,” Dean said with a laugh. “As if we’d make a crappy cake for your birthday.”

He laughed and shook his head, “Damn straight.”

Picking up his shoes, he walked down the hall and tossed them in their bedroom before following Sam down the stairs. Meeting Bobby’s eyes as they entered the kitchen, he gave the other man a small smile. “Who wants to open presents?” he asked with a laugh. 

“More jeans?” Sam asked, laughing.

Dean glanced at Bobby, saying, “The birthday fairy brought Sam some jeans this morning and he was less than impressed.”

Bobby laughed and shook his head, “Well, you won’t know what’s in the boxes until you open them.” Leading the way into the living room, he motioned toward the sofa and the small pile of presents on the coffee table. “Personally, I think they all look like new jeans to me but what do I know.”

Sam grinned at him and picked up a small box, saying, “Not sure I’d fit into these jeans.”

Gently ruffling his hair, Dean pulled him down next to him on the sofa. “Open it up and see, Sammy boy.”

Ripping off the wrapping paper, he laughed, “Tomb Raider! Thank you, Dean, this is perfect.” Handing the box to Bobby, “I’ll show you how to play this next time you’re at our house, if you want.”

Bobby eyed the drawing of the busty woman on the box, “Yeah, that’s a practical looking outfit for raiding tombs.” He chuckled, “It’s basically what I wear on salt and burns.”

Sam laughed, taking it back. “She’s an archaeologist,” he said. “It’s a lot of fun. I’ve been playing it at Jason’s and I think they’re coming out with a sequel soon.”

“Yep, skin tight t-shirts and really short shorts are totally standard wear for the archeologists I know,” he confirmed with a laugh. “Next time Eleanor Visyak visits, you’ll have to let me borrow your game, Sam, so I can show her. She’s not an archeologist but close.”

Dean eyed him, recognizing Bobby’s smile. “Don’t be perverting my baby brother’s games,” he said, laughing.

Bobby grinned, “Hush, boy. Dr. Visyak is a fine, upstanding professor.”

Ignoring them, Sam opened a small box from Bobby and found six packs of seeds. 

“I’ve got two raised galvanized steel planter boxes for you out back,” he said, leaning forward slightly. They’re raised 3 feet off the ground so we don’t kill the grass in the backyard and it’ll make taking care of them easier. I’ll bring them over and help you set them up. I checked the planting schedules and we can plant next week, we’re just past the last frost date.”

Sam grinned, “Cool! Thanks Bobby!” Showing the seeds to Dean, he said, “Look! We can grow carrots!”

“That’s going to be 100% you, Sam,” he said, shaking his head. “But if you grow them, we’ll cook them for sure.”

Sam nodded, “Totally. It’ll be fun, we’ve never grown anything before. And we have those flower beds too, that Dad put in, that we need to get stuff for.” He smiled, “You’re the one who is always saying we need to make nice with the neighbors and flowers say nice.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah, I do and you’re right. Flowers say nice and respectable and that at least some sort of semi-responsible adult lives in the house.” He smiled at Bobby, “If you’re not busy, we can install the planters on Monday. This way you and Sam can plant next weekend when I’m down in Vermillion for that math test.”

“Monday? You’re not in school?” Bobby asked.

“No, it’s Senior Skip Day,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve got a list of projects around the house anyway and can just add that to it.”

Bobby looked at him for a moment, struggling with what to say and handle this curve ball before finally saying, “We’ll talk about it later, kid.” 

Sam grinned, “Can I skip, too?” 

“Sure, when you’re a senior,” Dean said, bumping against him. “So, remind me in four years.” Nodding to the other three presents, he said, “Open another one, Sam.”

Nodding toward the pack of hamburger buns on the counter, Bobby said, “Make yourself useful and slice those and while you’re doing that, tell me what Senior Skip Day is.”

Dean chuckled, “Oh, it’s nothing important. It’s just the day that seniors traditionally skip school. It’s basically approved by the teachers, nothing is due, and they don’t care.” Picking out the bread knife from the block, he carefully sliced the three buns in half and yelled, “Sam!”

“What?” he answered from the living room where he was flipping through the magazine Dean had gotten him as the start of a yearlong subscription.

“Do you want your hamburger bun toasted?”

“Yes, please!”

Bobby glared at him, “Now that critical information is received, tell me more about the day, what you’re doing, and why it’s suddenly OK to miss a day of school when you’re not sick.”

He shrugged, putting the knife back in the block, “Because it’s what seniors do. It’s tradition, the school expects it, and it’s basically endorsed by them.” Smiling, he leaned against the counter and studied the other man, “And aren’t you always telling me to relax and be a teenager?” He laughed, “Seriously, Bobby. It’s fine. Some people are going to the park and others are just going to friends’ houses. I’m going to study for my math text on Saturday and do all of this weekend’s chores because I’m spending the weekend here and doing stuff with Sam and not worrying about anything else.” 

The older man nodded, “Fine, just seems like a weird thing to me and not exactly on the up and up. But, I trust you.”

Dean grinned, “Good! My devious, long con of cleaning, cooking, taking care of Sam, getting good grades, and presenting myself as a responsible adult for the last six months has finally paid off! I’ve gotten my ultimate goal of participating in Senior Skip Day and getting one whole day off school!” He laughed, yelping as Bobby hit him gently on the shoulder. “Sam! Help me!” he called, laughing as Bobby hit him again and pulled him into a headlock, rubbing his hair.

Running into the kitchen, Sam laughed, tackling Bobby. “I’ll save you!” he yelled.

“Long con, huh?” Bobby asked, twisting around to block Sam. “You’re talking to the master of long cons, kid.”

Dean laughed, twisting out of the headlock and shook his head. “Get him for me, Sammy!”

Sam charged, catching Bobby around the middle and then laughed, squealing and giggling, as Bobby began to tickle him, half lifting him off the floor. “No! Stop it!”

“What do you say?” Bobby asked, laughing.

“Uncle!” Sam shrieked, giggling and squirming out of the older man’s grip. “The coolest uncle, ever!”

Bobby laughed, letting him go, “That’s right. I’m the coolest uncle ever and don’t you forget it.”

Dean laughed, hugging him and pulling Sam into the hug, “That’s right, you are. And we couldn’t ask for a better uncle, right, Sam?”

“Or one that makes better burgers or gives cooler birthday gifts,” Sam confirmed, hugging them both. “The best and coolest uncle, ever.”

Quickly kissing them both, he shook his head, “Idjits, the both of you. Now, get out of my kitchen and let me cook in peace.”

Dean laughed, “Come on, Sam. We’ll go dig through Bobby’s movies and maybe find something non-western to watch tonight.”

Shaking his head as they left the kitchen and he turned back to the counter, he sighed, unable to stop his mind from immediately flashing back to the late night conversations with John in the fall. Even as he pulled out the ingredients he needed, Bobby mentally said a quick prayer that his friend could see how well his sons were doing and that they were safe and loved. And too, that he was finding peace with the knowledge that his faith in his oldest friend had been well placed and deserving of the fantastic gift and immense trust he had been given. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“So, which volcano movie was better,” Dean asked as they walked out of the theater Saturday afternoon. 

Sam grinned, “This one! It was neat seeing the tar pits explode like that. Even though in Dante’s Peak, it was neat when the old lady pushed the boat to save the kids but kind of gross that she sort of boiled to death. Are there really tar pits in the middle of LA?”

He nodded, “Yeah, right in like downtown.” Getting in the car, he said after Sam got in, “Add it to our list of road trips and we’ll go see them one summer. Was this better than Anaconda?” 

“You would have hated that one,” Sam said, shaking his head. 

“No kidding, dude,” Dean confirmed. “That’s why you went with Jason and Ray. Big snakes that eat people … no, thank you!”

Sam laughed, “It was good but it’s more fun to go with you.” Glancing at his brother, he smiled, “And not just because you’re good with us buying popcorn and cokes and sneaking in candy, too.”

Reaching out, he ruffled his brother’s hair, “I like going with you too and judging by the coming attractions, it’s going to be a good summer of movies.” Exiting the parking lot, he said, “So … home and you can try on your new jeans and see if we need to exchange them tomorrow and you can install your new game or you want to go someplace else?”

He thought for a minute and then said slowly, “Can we go to the gun range?”

Glancing at his watch, he shook his head, “Sorry squirt, but they close in like 20 minutes. We can go tomorrow though.

Sam nodded, “Yeah. It just kind of reminds me of Dad, you know?” he said after several long minutes. “We would have gone shooting with him this weekend, I’m sure.”

Dean nodded, “You’re probably right and it reminds me of him, too, so we’ll go tomorrow for sure.” Glancing at his brother, he smiled, “Just like opening presents before dinner, got to keep up traditions.”

He smiled, “Right.”

“And in the name of tradition, I’m guessing pizza for dinner?”

Sam laughed, “Yes, for sure. In front of the TV. We can watch Alien!”

“And not tell Bobby,” Dean commented, glancing at his brother. “We’ll tell him we’re watching Aladdin.”

“Aladdin!” Sam protested. “I’m not 8, Dean!”

He grinned and shook his head, “Bobby won’t know the difference and you liked Aladdin! We went and saw it when it came out … twice!”

“Yeah … when I was 8!” he said, shaking his head.

“I think you were 9, dude,” Dean said with a grin, glancing at his brother. “It was over Thanksgiving break in that small town outside of Buffalo and I remember worrying the whole time we were there that you were going to fall into a snow drift and be buried alive.” He laughed, shaking his head again, “This place is bad enough … I couldn’t do Buffalo again.” 

Sam frowned for a moment and shrugged, “I think I remember it but maybe not.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, pushing aside the memories surrounding the holiday and escaping to the movies that year. Their dad’s mood swung wildly from just before Halloween to just after Christmas. The anniversary of Mary’s death, the forced holiday cheer, demands for money, and schools being out for weeks on end all combined into an unknown mix. Some years were fine, others were less so. “How do you feel about getting some ice cream for the house?” he asked suddenly, eager to change the subject.

Sam grinned, “Nothing goes better with cake then ice cream!”

“I agree,” he said, smiling and carefully changing lanes to head to Sam’s favorite ice cream store.

OOooOOooOOoo

Standing in front of the mirror in is bathroom the next morning, Dean met his brother’s eyes and smiled. “Ready?”

Sam nodded and grinned back. “I washed my face already,” he said. 

“Good, that’s important.” Picking up the small tube of shaving cream off his counter, he said, “This is like what I got you. You don’t need a brush but if you want to try one later, I’ll show you how, OK?” Squeezing a bit into his hand and then into Sam’s hand, he said, “You don’t need a lot … and then just work it onto you face.” Quickly working the white cream onto his face, he nodded as Sam copied his movements. “Got your razor?”

He nodded, holding up the stainless steel. 

“Perfect,” Dean said, holding up his. “You adjust the blade setting this way. Go ahead and click yours up to six.”

Looking at the dial, Sam asked, “What’s your set at?”

“Three but that’s too harsh for you right now,” he said, bumping him gently. “Six is perfect.” He smiled as Sam made a small face but adjusted the blade. In reality, his brother had just light peach fuzz but their dad had taught him to shave at 14 and it seemed like an important rite of passage and a good birthday gift. Plus, starting over the summer would give the younger boy plenty of time to practice before school started in the fall. “So, there’s two schools of thought,” he said, taking a deep breath, “with the grain or against the grain. Since hair grows in both directions, it’s more important to find what feels comfortable to you.” Starting with his left check, he gently drew the razor down about halfway. “Let the blade do the work, don’t force it, don’t press too hard, and don’t dig …” Doing another strip, he nodded, “Give it a try … nice and easy.”

Sam studied his reflection for a moment before taking a deep breath and drawing the razor down his face, just skimming the cream.

“Good, good,” he said, nodding. “Try pressing in just a small bit harder …. but not too hard!” he added quickly as Sam drew a small drop of blood. “No worries, happens to the best of us,” he said with a smile. 

He sighed and tried again, “Better?”

“Better,” Dean confirmed. Tipping his head up slightly, he drew the blade up his own neck, stopping at his chin. “Then you just slowly work your way around. I typically do under my nose last but you’ll find a pattern that works for you eventually.” Pausing halfway thru, he watched his brother. “Doing good, Sam. That’s great, curl your lip inward slightly to make the skin taut,” he said after several minutes. “Don’t forget to rinse your blade often, every pass or so because a clean blade works better.”

Sam grinned and slowly worked his way around his face and neck, rinsing the razor often.

“And you can touch up your sideburns, if you want,” he said several long minutes later as Sam finished up. Reaching up with his own razor, he touched the area briefly, skimming the razor down toward his ear. He smiled as Sam copied his movements. “Perfect! You’re a natural at this!” Quickly finishing his own shave, he nodded toward the other sink. “Now, rinse your face and you can use moisturizer, if you want later but right now, let’s put a small bit of tissue on those nicks.” 

Turning the water on the other sink, he quickly rinsed his face. “Do you use moisturizer?”

He nodded, “Yeah, especially in the winter. It’s so cold and dry here, it’s brutal. You can try what I use, it never caused me to break out so it might work well for you, too.” Reaching over, he pulled out a tissue and tore off two small pieces. “Just hold those in place for a second and the bleeding will stop.” 

Sam made a face, “Sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, shaking his head. “Everyone cuts themselves from time to time, Sammy. Promise.” He laughed and shook his head, “I remember the first time Dad taught me to shave. We were on a hunt down in Texas, I think. You were up here with Bobby and it was snowing and icing so badly, Dad actually called a weather delay!”

He laughed, “Were you in a blizzard? That’s about all that would usually stop Dad.”

Dean laughed, “Just about! We’re stuck in this crappy hotel and nothing on TV so Dad decided it was the perfect time to teach me. I think I cut myself three or four times … so much that he made jokes about using me as bait because of the smell of blood.” Grinning, he shook his head again, “But I got the hang of it quick enough and you will too.”

Sam grinned and nodded, “Thanks!” Washing off his razor, he grinned again and nodded at his reflection for a moment. “Can you tell?”

Holding his brother’s chin, he twisted it slightly toward the light and nodded. “Yep, smooth as a dolphin’s belly!”

He laughed, “Like those dolphin’s we got to pet at Sea World!”

“Exactly,” he confirmed. “Just minus the muscle tone.” Bumping against Sam again, he laughed as the younger man rolled his eyes. “Go get dressed and we’ll go get breakfast.”

“IHOP?”

He shrugged, “Wherever you want to go, it’s your birthday weekend.” Watching his brother leave the bathroom, he shook his head slightly and pushed down the sudden pang of their dad’s absence and another milestone being reached without him. Blinking back sudden tears, he forced himself not to think of all the other ones looming and how it was on him to make sure that Sam safely reached each one. 

“How’d the kid do shaving this morning?” Bobby asked over the phone that afternoon. 

Glancing at the closed office door, Dean smiled, “No major veins or arteries severed and no stitches so I’m counting it as a full success!” He laughed, “Actually, he did fine. A couple of small nicks but nothing bad and they all stopped bleeding before we even left for breakfast.”

“Well, that was a nice kit you got him.”

“Thanks,” he said twisting in the chair for a moment.

Bobby waited silently on the phone, sensing the other man’s hesitation. He had learned that if he wanted Dean to open up and say what was on his mind, he often simply had to be quiet and give the younger man space.

“I always figured, in the back of my mind, that I’d be the one to teach Sam to shave,” he said softly. “You know? Just seemed like something we’d do one weekend when Dad was gone ….”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I can see that.”

He sighed, “Just also expected to brag to him about it when he came back. Have Sam show off his new skills, get a bit of approval from Dad about it, that sort of thing. It would have been just one of those stories we always shared when he was back and we were filling him in on what we did while he was away. He would have been proud, I think.” His voice trailed off with the last part coming out in an almost whisper. 

“He would have been very proud,” Bobby confirmed, pushing aside any doubt and focusing on making his voice sound steady. “He always knew he could trust you with Sam and you are great with him.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. Shaking his head, he coughed and sat up straighter. “But anyway, you still coming over tomorrow with those planters?”

Allowing the subject to be changed, he smiled, “You still skipping school like a juvenile delinquent?”

Dean laughed, “No, I’m skipping school like a senior on Senior Skip Day! And, as proof of how wild and crazy I am, I’m getting up basically the same time I always get up, dropping Sam off at school, going grocery shopping, cooking for the week, and doing like six loads of laundry.”

“Such a rebel! But yeah, if you can fit me into your busy schedule, I’ll bring them by and we can set them up.”

“Good, then you can help Sam get them all planted on Saturday while I’m busy with that math test.” He laughed, “This was your idea and not mine, Bobby.”

He chuckled, “Don’t worry kid, I’ll be in charge of it. I’ll even take you to lunch tomorrow.”

Dean smiled, “Thanks! See you then.” Hanging up the phone, he went into the kitchen and glanced at Sam sitting at the dining room table working on homework. “Almost done, Sammy? Do you want me to start dinner?”

He nodded and sighed, “Yeah, and then will you please help me with my Algebra? I’m not getting it and not sure where I’m going wrong.”

“Of course,” he said, pulling the small Shepherd's pie they made earlier in the day out of the refrigerator. Glancing at the oven to confirm it was pre-heated, he slid it in and set the timer. Moving over to the table, he said, “OK, show me what’s going on.”

Sam made a face and shoved the worksheet and book toward his brother and sighed. “Here.” Folding his arms, he laid his head down and sighed again.

Resisting the urge to laugh at the dramatics, Dean reached over and ruffled his hair. “Life is so hard sometimes, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said with another sigh. 

Giving in and laughing slightly, Dean said, “It’ll be OK. We’ve got 30 minutes to conquer your worksheet before dinner and I know we can do it.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Pulling away from the middle school the next Friday, Dean said, “When we get home, will you please help me bring the laundry down so we can do it tonight? There’s not that much but it’s going to be a busy weekend again and I don’t want to wait until Sunday to do it. Plus, it’s nice if the house isn’t a mess when Bobby comes over tomorrow.”

Sam made a face, “Fine.”

Glancing over at his brother, Dean decided to ignore the attitude and let it go. It was Friday, they were both tired and unlike their dad, he understood that sometimes attitudes could be ignored and they would work themselves out on their own. Pulling into the driveway, he yawned as he hit the remote for the garage and pulled in. “Mail, please,” he called as Sam got out of car and started inside.

He turned and made a face, “Why do I always have to get the mail? And put the trash out and bring the can back in?”

Dean laughed, “Because those are your jobs, Sam. We both have stuff we do around the house and those are yours.” He smiled at his brother, hoping to defuse the growing attitude. “We can switch stuff up, if you want to talk about it. But you said you hate laundry and vacuuming … so …” Holding out his hands, he shrugged. “Plus, you said you liked getting the mail.”

“Well, it’s stupid,” he said, turning around with a frown and stomping down the driveway. 

Grabbing both of their bookbags, Dean shook his head as he muttered to himself, “And throwing a hissy fit over getting the mail is so brilliant …” Putting their bags on floor by the sofa, he glanced up as Sam came into the house. “Hungry?”

Sam shook his head, dropping the mail on the island counter. “Nothing good, just junk.”

“Then put it in the trash, please,” he said struggling not to snap as he walked into the kitchen. “I’m going to make a piece of toast before I start the laundry. Are you sure you don’t want something?” He grinned, “You seem a bit cranky.” 

Ignoring him, Sam said, “Why does Bobby even have to come over tomorrow?”

“What do you mean, why?” Dean asked, glancing up from the bread bag he was untying. “I’ve got that math test tomorrow down at USD and need to leave around 8:30.”

“Yeah, so what? What does that have to do with me?”

“What?” he asked again. “You guys are going to get your planters all set up and plant your seeds.” Putting a piece of bread in the toaster, he looked at his brother again and smiled, “I feel like I’m missing something here, Sammy.”

“I can stay by myself, you know,” he said sharply, shaking his head. “Bobby doesn’t need to come over and babysit me just because you’re gone. And it’s even during the day. I’ll be fine. I’m not a kid.”

Closing his eyes for a second, he took a deep breath and once against resisted the urge to snap at his brother. “Well, first off,” he said, laughing slightly as he grabbed the peanut butter and jelly jars, “I don’t think anyone considers it babysitting.”

“Oh really? What would you call it then?” he shot back angrily, interrupting Dean. “This is just stupid; the whole thing is stupid.”

“I’m not sure if you’re hungry or tired or just in a shitty mood,” he said firmly, “but we clearly need to table this discussion until later.” The toaster popped and he grabbed the toast. Nodding toward it, he said, “If you’re hungry, have this and I’ll make another one and we’ll eat together.”

Ignoring the offer, Sam shook his head and muttered, “Like talking about stuff will change anything.”

“Well, I can tell you that your attitude and behavior certainly aren’t winning you any points,” he shot back, unable to control the frustration in his own voice. Taking a deep breath and walking to the island, he said, “If you’re not hungry and don’t want anything to eat, go to your room. You can come out when you’re ready to have a civil conversation.” Opening the peanut butter, he saw the younger man still glowering on the other side of the island counter. “Move it, Sam …”

“Fuck you, Dean!” he yelled, pushing away from the counter. “This is all such bullshit and fucking stupid!”

Talking three steps around the island, Dean caught Sam by the arm and turned him slightly before swatting him twice on the butt. “What part of this attitude and behavior do you think is remotely appropriate?” Walking him toward the stairs, he delivered two more hard swats to his brother’s butt. “Are you ready to go to your room or do you have something else to say?”

Sam glared before pulling his arm free and minutely shaking his head.

“Go,” he ordered firmly, nodding toward the stairs. Listening to the running footsteps up the stairs and the almost slammed bedroom door, he sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment. Finishing making his toast, he leaned on the counter and tried not to hate his life at that moment. 

Dumping a load of warm clothes on the sofa an hour later, he glanced up as the sound of his brother’s bedroom door opening came from upstairs. Forcing himself to go back into the laundry room, he pulled the next load from the washer and threw the wet clothes into the drier and turned it on. Leaning against the drier for a long moment, he blinked back sudden tears as memories hit him hard. Endless hassles doing laundry in hotels, constantly juggling worries about money or leaving Sam alone or entertaining the younger boy in laundromats and how grateful he was when they were in a house with a washer and drier. He had explained it to their dad one time and the older man had tried after that to make sure that anytime they were in a house, it came with at least a washer but that wasn’t always possible. Pushing himself up, he grabbed the next load and shoved it into the washer before starting it.

Sam glanced over, shuffling slightly in the space between the kitchen and the living room and smiled slightly. “Can I come out of my room now?” he asked softly. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, “Of course, Sam.” Giving him a gentle bump as he passed his brother, he picked up the remote and turned on the news just starting at 5:00. “Why don’t you fold up the laundry while I do some stuff in the kitchen.” When his brother nodded, he pulled him into a quick hug and kissed the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry I was rude and mean,” he said, hugging his brother back.

Dean nodded, “I know.” Giving him another squeeze, he said, “Go fold.” He knew their dad wouldn’t have let the heated words and attitude blow over so easily but letting it go seemed right to him and certainly made the house more peaceful. Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed a notebook and flipped to an empty page, quickly copying down the short grocery list from the pad on the refrigerator and then started thinking about meal planning for the next week. 

Glancing over from his spot on the sofa several minutes later, Sam asked quietly, “Can we talk about if Bobby needs to come tomorrow just because you’re going to be gone?”

He smiled, “Sure but the answer to that is going to be yes, he does. I’m going to be gone all day and an hour plus away and not always reachable. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you on your own that long. But, if you want to talk about what time he comes over, I’m willing to have that conversation.”

“Ok,” Sam said, giving his brother a small smile. “Thanks.”

OOooOOooOOoo

Pouring coffee into a travel mug the next morning, Dean yawned. “Need anything before I leave, Sam?”

He smiled, “Nope. I’m good. Bobby will be here around 10:00.” Taking a bite of cereal, he said, “You’ll be really impressed once we get the planters set up. We’re doing two types of carrots, onions, and spinach.”

Dean grinned, “Sounds good. Are you guys doing flowers too?” In deference to his brother’s desire for independence but his own flat out refusal to leave the younger boy home alone all day when he was out of town, he had spoken to Bobby the night before and assured him that he didn’t need to come until mid-morning. The compromise made Sam happy and didn’t stress him out, too much.

“No, Bobby said it’s still a little early.” Sam laughed, “Plus, he said he didn’t promise to do flowers, just the planters and we were on our own for the fru fru stuff.”

Laughing, he shook his head, “Great. Put it down on the list then, Sammy boy, and we’ll do it in a couple of weekends. Maybe look to see when the neighbors do it and copy them.” He took a sip of coffee and glanced at the clock. “OK, I’m out of here. Don’t forget to finish your book and get started on your paper and remember the house rules.”

“I know, I won’t,” he promised. 

Dean smiled, “If you’re good then, I’m good.” 

“I’m good,” he repeated. “Good luck on your test!”

Walking over, he kissed him on the head, “Have a good day. I’ll call you guys when I’m on my way back and see where you are and if we’re meeting for dinner. Call me if you need anything. Love you.” He laughed and gently cuffed his brother’s head, “And don’t roll your eyes at me. I saw that.”

Sam grinned, “Bye.”

“Nice ride!”

Glancing up as he locked the car, Dean smiled at the two girls walking past him in the half empty parking lot. “Thanks,” he said. Seeing that they were both wearing Washington High School t-shirts, he said, “Washington in Sioux Falls? I’m at Lincoln.”

They exchanged smiles and one of them said, “Here for the math placement test?”

He nodded, “Yeah. You too?”

The other one smiled, “Yep. Why don’t we go together? Allison’s brother goes here so she’s a bit familiar with it.” 

The other girl laughed, “Well, I’m mostly familiar with where the bars are.” Glancing at the sheet of paper in her hand, she added, “Churchill though … it’s around here somewhere according to these directions.”

Dean smiled, “I have an excellent sense of direction.” Walking up to them, he said, “I’m Dean by the way.” He bowed slightly and motioned with his arm, “Shall we, ladies?”

Allison giggled, “Lead the way, kind sir!”

Walking into the correct building and registering a few minutes later, he sat directly behind the other girl, Amber, while Allison sat in the desk next to his. He glanced between them and said, “So what are you all doing for the summer?”

“Not much, Amber said with a sigh. “My dad is really big on all of us going on a road trip every year for vacation and he’s moaning about this being the last one with ‘all us kids’.” She grinned, making air quotes around the words. “What are you doing?”

“Road trips too, I think,” he said. “Maybe some camping.” 

“Fun! Where do you …” Allison said before her words were cut off by a man in the front of the room loudly clapping his hands for their attention and silence. She gave him a quick smile before turning her attention to the front.

“Good luck!” Amber whispered before turning around. 

He grinned, forcing himself to not think of how to spend a fun lunch with his new friends and instead, pay attention to the instructions and the tests being passed out.

“We should be able to harvest by mid-July,” Sam said with a smile. “That will be so cool! Go outside and pull out a carrot and eat it.” He glanced at Bobby across the booth and said, “Right? Like 60 days until they’re ready?”

Dean nodded, “Very cool, your hours of work this afternoon and all the time Bobby spent building those planters and the buying all the soil will save us dollars at the grocery store in two months! 

Sam glared at him and flicked his straw wrapper at him with a huff. “That’s not the point, Dean!”

He laughed and bumped his brother, “Just teasing you, Sammy. I do think it’s cool and I am very impressed. I can’t wait to see it when we get home.” 

Ignoring them, Bobby said, “What are you boys getting?”

“We need to start with a pu pu platter,” Sam said with a grin. “And you have to order it, Bobby!”

He shook his head and looked at Dean, “Your brother has the sense of humor of a 9 year old.”

Dean laughed and nodded, “Yeah. I’d say that’s about right since I think I have the sense of humor level of a 13 year old.” He grinned at Sam and nodded, “And I totally agree, Bobby has order the pu pu platter.” 

Sam laughed again and grinned, “And, in addition to the pu pu platter, I’m going to get lemon chicken.”

“How about I get the chicken and broccoli and we split the two?” Dean asked. “This way you get some vegetables, at least.” He smiled at Bobby, “What are you going to get? You’re welcome to eat some of the chicken and broccoli.”

“I’ll pass but thanks,” he said with a smile as the waitress came over. With a totally straight face and ignoring Sam’s grin, he ordered the appetizer platter and then his order of Mongolian beef. Once she left, he said, “So tell us about the test?”

He waved his hand slightly, “Oh, it was fine. I was kind of worried and had brushed up on some formulas for geometry but it was mostly basic algebra and stuff. I should get the results in a couple of weeks.” Taking a sip of his coke, he asked, “Other than the planters, what did you guys do all day?”

Sam grinned, “Bobby and I replaced the tires on the bike he got me and we cleaned it up so it’s good to go. And then he let me use the repeating bow for a while, which was fun.”

Bumping his brother, he said, “You used the repeating bow without me, dude? How am I supposed to win if you keep practicing like that?”

“He’s getting good,” Bobby confirmed. “Took out 10 targets almost dead on in about 30 seconds.”

“Yep, almost dead on,” he said before shrugging. “After that, I just did homework and watched TV and stuff like that.”

Dean nodded, “Good. Did you finish Fahrenheit 451? Your paper is due Friday, right?” Leaning back slightly from the table as the waitress delivered the appetizer platter, he said, “Yum! Good choice, Bobby.”

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, like I had a choice.” Picking up one of the skewers of teriyaki chicken, he took a bit. “But it is excellent.”

“Sam?” Dean said a minute later after they started eating, “Your book? Done?”

He sighed, “Almost. I’ll finish it tonight or tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said, bumping him gently before biting into a spring roll. “You better, I don’t want to have to beat you or lock you in a closet or just feed you bread and water.” 

Sam laughed, rolling his eyes. “Like Bobby would let you do that!” Picking up a dumpling, he said, “What did you have for lunch? We had sandwiches and the best roast beef, from an actual roast and not just the deli, like we normally buy. We should totally do that some time; it was cool slicing it off.”

Watching them go back and forth, Bobby smiled, soaking up the laughter, teasing, and connections flowing around the table. The knowledge that the little boy who had been brought to his house and still cried at night for his mother, even though he’d never actually admit that, was now about to graduate from high school and the even littler boy who clung to his big brother with fierce tenacity was about to go into high school himself, made him feel old and like he had no idea where the years had gone. But their teasing and jokes that fully included him made him feel as if his life would go on forever, getting more and more full as the years went on and he watched them experience things he never dreamed of for them. Or, himself. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“How was school today?” Bobby asked the next Tuesday evening.

“Good,” Dean said, “easy. Feels like things are starting to wrap up. Final papers are due this week for a couple of classes and finals are next week, but I feel like I’m in good shape.” Looking at his brother sitting at the dining room table working on homework, he added in a raised, pointed voice, “And as soon as Sam finishes his book report, I’ll be able to say the same thing about him.”

Glancing up at the sound of his name, Sam made a face and said, “I’m working on it!”

He grinned, turning his attention back to the pot of water he was bringing to a boil. “What’s up with you?”

“Two things, actually,” Bobby said. “Did Sam bring home anything about a summer reading list?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No, or at least not that I’ve seen.” Turning back to his brother, he said, “Sam, did you get your summer reading list already?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we got it and a bunch of other crap yesterday but it’s for the summer, so I haven’t looked at it yet.”

He smiled, making a mental note to look at the bunch of crap after dinner, and turned back to the phone. “Yes, it’s here, along with a bunch of other crap, according to Sam. Clearly, something I at least need to look at tonight.”

Bobby laughed, “OK, then I’ll just show this to you next time I see you boys to make sure your pile of crap is complete.”

Dean laughed, “Thank you. What else?”

“Looking at the calendar, it dawned on me that I haven’t heard one thing from you about graduation. Don’t you need to order stuff and when is it anyway?”

Dumping the ravioli into the boiling water to buy some time, he finally said, “It’s Saturday, the 24th, but I’m not going so … no need to order anything. They’ll mail me my diploma. I already filled out the form saying where to send it and confirmed I’m not attending.”

He was silent for a long minute before finally saying crossly, “OK. Why didn’t we talk about this before you just went and made the decision on your own?”

Dean shrugged, forcing himself to keep his voice level, “Nothing really to talk about. I filled out the paperwork a good six weeks ago.”

“Well, is there a reason you don’t want to go?” He sighed, “This is important, Dean and we should have talked about it before you just went and made the decision.”

“It’s my decision to make and there’s not any huge reason I don’t want to go,” Dean said simply. “I just don’t want to do it.” Glancing at his brother, he turned back to the stove and stirred the pasta and then the meatballs simmering in sauce. Keeping his voice low and even as to not catch Sam’s attention, he said, “Let’s not make a big deal out of this, OK? I’m graduating, with honors even, but it seems stupid and pointless to attend some idiotic ceremony and I didn’t want to do it. Or make you and Sam sit through some boring event to see me get a piece of paper that will show up at the house a few days later.”

“Maybe Sam and I wanted to go,” Bobby said. “It’s a big deal and I’m sure it would have been fun to see you dressed up in a cap and gown, walk across the stage, and all the hoopla. You should have asked me; we should have talked about it.”

Feeling a flash of anger, Dean jerked open the oven and shoved the pan of garlic bread in in before saying in a low harsh voice, “Well, this is what I wanted to do. This day is just about me and what I did, no one else. And for once, for one fucking moment, I get to be selfish and get to do exactly what I want and don’t have to think about anyone else or what they need or what’s best for them. I don’t have to talk about it with you and I sure as hell don’t have to ask for your permission.” He took a deep breath to steady himself, feeling suddenly embarrassed by the outburst before saying, “Sorry. That came out way harsher than I wanted it.” Glancing behind him, he was happy to see Sam still engrossed in his own homework and not paying attention to the low voice.

“No, it’s OK, kid,” Bobby said softly. “I get it and you’re exactly right. This is your graduation and you should do what you want. Just … took me by surprise. I guess I figured … I was just curious, is all and wanted to ask but I’ve got my answer.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it...” He paused, unsure what else to say and feeling guilty about lashing out, “I … Just… I’m sorry, that was …” Pausing again, he swallowed before saying, “I need to get going and finish dinner. We’ll talk later, OK?”

“Have a good dinner and tell Sam I said Hi.”

“Will do and thanks for the heads up about the summer reading list. I’ll add it to my list,” he said, forcing himself to give a small chuckle. Hanging up the phone, he said, “Pack it up, Sam and set the table, please. Consider this your 5 minute warning and Bobby says Hi.”

“Oh good!” he said, “I’m starving.”

Glancing at his brother, he smiled, “Glad we got plenty then. I need to use the bathroom before dinner; watch the bread for me, please.” Walking down the hall, he closed the door to the half bath and took several deep breaths to steady himself. Bending over the counter, he rested his head on his folded fists and tried to steady his pounding heart. He had known the question of graduation was bound to come up and he had meant to bring it up to Bobby several times over the last couple of months, ever since he had filled out the form saying he wasn’t going to walk and to mail his diploma. The choice had been easy to make but he had also been reluctant to mention it, not wanting to explain his decision or discuss it or have it analyzed. Standing up and quickly washing his hands, he took another deep breath and went back into the kitchen.

Sam smiled, “Perfect timing.”

Draining the ravioli, he dished it out and handed a plate to his brother, “Here you go, squirt. We have 3 meatballs each so don’t be stealing one of mine from the pot.”

He laughed, “I’ll try but they are really good meatballs.” 

“They are,” Dean confirmed. Sitting down at the table a minute later, he sprinkled parmesan cheese over the pasta before passing it to his brother. “So, what’s going on in your world, Sammy?”

Sam laughed again and shook his head, “You’ll never guess what Jason did today in gym. We’re doing tumbling, which is stupid to begin with.”

“What did Jason do?” he asked, making himself focus on the story instead of his conversation with Bobby and the older man’s reaction. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Can I ask you something?” Sam asked slowly Thursday afternoon as they stopped at a red light near school.

Glancing over at him, Dean smiled, “Of course. What’s up?” Turning his attention back to the road, he turned toward the house. 

Sam shifted in his seat before saying, “Are you not graduating or something?”

“What?” he asked, glancing over at his brother again. “You’ve seen my report cards, Sam.” Laughing, he shook his head, “Why would you think I’m not graduating?” An idea suddenly hitting him and he frowned slightly at the idea of Bobby putting Sam up to this. Turning into their neighborhood, he mulled over how to ask. “Sam, did …”

He shrugged, looking out the window. “Because Jason wanted to know if Ray and I wanted to go to the movies next weekend to see the new Jurassic Park movie,” he said quickly, interrupting. “But Ray said he couldn’t because his grandparents are coming to town for his brother’s graduation on Saturday. And Justin’s in your class and I’m not going to a graduation.” He looked at his brother, “I mean, you’d invite me to come, right? Ray is going so it’s not like some formal, adults only thing.” 

Pulling into their driveway and garage, he put the car in park and turned to his brother after shutting the car off. “Sam, first off, I’m totally graduating. You’ll see my diploma in a couple of weeks when they mail it to me. Second, I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to deal with the whole ceremony thing, so I’m not doing it. That’s it. You don’t have to go to the ceremony to graduate. They’re long and boring and ….” He smiled, before shrugging, “And it’s not like I really care about any of these people, you know? I don’t care about their speeches or listening to all the reminiscing about the last four years at Lincoln and all the inside jokes about stuff.” Reaching out, he gently bumped his brother, “Dude, how many schools have we been to in the last four years? Maybe 10? I might be graduating from this one but it’s just one in a long, long list.”

Sam laughed and nodded, “Ummm… I’d guess at least 10.”

He nodded, “Yeah and I bet if we sat down and actually thought about it and counted, it’d be more. Plus … ” He swallowed slightly, glancing away, silently debating how deep to go with Sam. Pivoting the conversation, he said, “Plus, why don’t we do something, either on our own or with Bobby, that weekend instead? You’ll be out of school, I’ll be out, and it will be officially summer. We can leave after I’m done with Glenn’s stand that Saturday and go someplace for the weekend or even longer. We’ll have a hell of a lot more fun than sitting in some stuffy gym and listening to speeches.” 

Sam nodded, giving his brother a small, quick smile. “Yeah, that’ll be fun.”

“Cool!” Opening his car door, he said, “We’ll talk to Bobby about it tonight or tomorrow, OK?” Grabbing their bookbags out of the backseat, he carried them into the house.

Bringing in the mail a minute later, Sam laid it on the counter and sighed. Leaning on the counter, he looked at his brother and said, “I guess it does sound kind of boring.”

Dean looked up from the toaster oven and the four pizza bagels he had put in there. “What? Graduation?” When Sam nodded, he grinned, “Yeah, it’s really boring, Sam. And, trust me, Ray is going to be bored out of his mind.” Setting the timer, he walked over to the younger boy and pulled him in close, kissing the top of his head. “But you know what’s the most important thing I didn’t do in the car?”

“What?” he asked, trying to squirm away and giggling.

Holding him close, Dean laughed, “Clarify something you said.” Tickling him, he said, “You thinking that I’d be doing something fun and important and not inviting you. As if, Sammy boy! When would that ever happen?” 

“Stop, Dean!” Sam said, laughing and trying to pull away but was held tight. “I didn’t know!”

Tickling him again, he shook his head, “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy … as if!” He kissed him again, “Haven’t we always said that we are in this together? I trust you to always have my back and if you don’t come to stuff, how can you have my back?” Shaking him slightly, Dean shook his head again, “Not invite you, as if.”

Sam laughed again and hugged him back with a sigh. “I was just worried,” he said softly after a minute. “I thought maybe … you’d like want some time away from me or something.”

“I have all the time to myself I want and need, promise. I’ve got a part time job now on Saturdays and you’re not coming to that. Bobby and I do stuff and you don’t always sit in the garage with us, right?” Giving him another squeeze, he added, “And next year, I’m going to school a whole hour away, which means I might not be able to always drive you to school or pick you up and you’ll have to either deal with the bus or ride your bike the whole 10 miles in the snow, up hills, both ways.” 

“Yeah,” he said with a smile, shaking his head slightly at his brother’s exaggerations.

“Yeah,” Dean repeated, “and don’t forget it.” Softening his words with a laugh, he shook his head and felt his brother hug him back tightly, as he said, “Not invite you … as if.” Finally feel Sam let him go, he nodded toward the counter, he said, “Is that the new cooking magazine?” 

He nodded, smiling, “Yeah and they have doughnuts on the cover! We’ve never made doughnuts before.”

Groaning, he said, “Do you want to make doughnuts? We can buy decent ones from Dunkin Donuts down the street and you like the ones we get from the dog bakery downtown that we go to.” He grinned, before making a serious face, “If we make our own, you’ll never, ever get to go see the dog at the bakery again.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, right, Dean.” Laughing, he shook his head and grabbed the magazine. “Just look and see, OK? Maybe it’s not that hard or that much work?”

Sitting down on the sofa, he put his feet up on the coffee table and said, “OK, bring it here and let’s look but I’m thinking anything that requires oil, yeast, rising dough, and frying is going to be a lot of work, dude.” He smiled as Sam sat down next to him. Raising his arm, his brother curled up slightly against him so they could look at the magazine together. “Remember how much work that chicken cordon bleu was? And that was just chicken.”

“Yeah, but that was really good!” Sam said, smiling. “Even Bobby liked it and I helped.”

Dean laughed, “Bobby likes everything but broccoli and damn straight you are helping this time too, since you want to do this.” He sighed, flipping quickly through the magazine to the correct page with doughnuts and shook his head. Yawning, he said, “Go grab the pizzas, please, the timer is about to go off, and let’s see what sort of nightmare this is.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, grinning. “We can totally do it.”

“I need to use the computer for a bit,” Dean said 20 minutes later after they finished their pizzas and looking at the magazine. “I have two papers due tomorrow and need to correct some typos I caught when I was proofing them over lunch today.” As he had been doing all year, lunches were spent in the quiet of the library, working on homework, studying, or trying to keep things organized at home. 

Sam nodded, “Can I call Bobby and ask him about your graduation trip and see if he wants to come and if he has any ideas on where to go?” 

He swallowed and nodded, forcing himself to smile, “Of course! That’s a good idea.” He and the older man hadn’t spoken since the conversation on Tuesday and he wasn’t sure how to reach out after snapping at him. Letting Sam do it was an easy way to ease back in. Standing up, he said, “Tell him I said Hi, OK?”

“OK!” Leaning over, he grabbed the cordless phone off the end table and dialed as Dean left the living room. “Hey Bobby! It’s me.”

“Hey me. How are you guys today?” Bobby asked, smiling.

Sam laughed at the familiar joke. “I’m good. Dean and I were talking about making doughnuts and he said to tell you Hi. Have you ever done that? How are you?”

“I’m good, too and no, I’ve never made doughnuts but that sounds like fun. If you do it, you’ll have to let me try them out. What kind are you thinking about making?” Settling back into his desk chair, he smiled as Sam described the recipes they had found and the suggested topping and fillings for the stuffed ones. It had only been a couple of days since he had spoken to either one of them, not that long or unusual, but after the misstep with Dean on Tuesday night, the silence had been weighing on him. 

“We’re talking about going on a quick trip next weekend, not two days from now but the next weekend,” Sam said several minutes later, “to celebrate his graduation instead of going to the boring ceremony and we wanted to know if you’d like to come with us.” Putting his feet up on the coffee table, he yawned, adding “Dean said we can leave when he gets done working with Glenn on Saturday and come back whenever because we’ll be out of school!” Saying the last few words loudly, he laughed, “I can’t wait!”

Bobby smiled, “I bet you’re excited and I’d love to come on your trip. Where are you boys going? I think that will be a lot of fun and much more fun than a boring graduation ceremony, for sure.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Dean said that, too. We talked about in the car today and he said it’s mostly speeches and inside jokes and stories about stuff he wasn’t around for anyway, so he doesn’t care. We both guess this is at least the 10th school we’ve gone to in the last four years.”

The words hit home for Bobby in a way he hadn’t thought about before. He had assumed Dean’s reluctance to attend graduation was a mix of his overall reluctance to have attention on himself and personal feelings about going through another milestone without John and going through that milestone surrounded by other fathers and families and having his younger brother deal with it, too. Sam’s words though added yet another, painful layer to the event and he swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of guilt at his handling of the situation. “I can see that,” he said, nodding. “How about I give the location some thought, and you boys think about it and we’ll compare notes this weekend? Am I going to see you this weekend?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said with a shrug. “I guess so but let me ask.” Putting his hand over the phone, he leaned back on the sofa and shouted in the direction of the office, “Dean! Bobby wants to know if we’re getting together this weekend!”

“Sam!” Bobby yelled into the phone.

“What?”

“Get up from wherever you are and go ask your brother in person,” he said firmly. “It’s not polite to shout.”

“Yes!” Dean yelled back from the office. “Tell him I’ll call him later!”

“Oh, well, Dean just answered,” Sam said, trying hard not to laugh. “Do I still have to get up and ask him again?” Giving up, he laughed for a second before swallowing hard as the other man sighed over the phone. “He said he’d call you later, OK?”

“Heathens, the both of you,” he said, sighing again and trying hard not to laugh.

Sam laughed and shrugged, “Sorry!” 

He chuckled and nodded, “But yes, tell your brother, who should know better than to shout, to call me later when he has a few quiet minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, giving a quick laugh before hanging up. Turning on the TV, he began to flip channels, looking for something to watch.

“No TV!” Dean yelled from the office. “Homework!”

Making a face, Sam turned the TV off and before roaming into the office. “Bobby says we’re not supposed to yell in the house.” 

He laughed, glancing at his brother, “We’ll remember that next time he’s over here. But in the meantime, if I’m in here working on homework and you’re in the living room, supposed to be working on homework, and I hear the TV go on, I’m going to yell.” He grinned as Sam smiled at him. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Do you want to sit in here with me?” he asked, when Sam didn’t move from his spot in the doorway.

He nodded, “Yes, please. I just have a chapter to read for history and a chapter for science but that’s it. I did my algebra during study period already.”

Dean smiled, “OK, then go get your books at sit in here. I’ll be done in about a little while and then we’ll look at dinner.” Turning back to the computer, he swallowed a sigh at the lost time to himself and tried hard not to think of how much he had enjoyed the last few minutes just quietly working alone.

Sitting down in the small recliner tucked into the corner of the office a minute later, Sam said, “Thanks, Dean! It’s more fun to study together then by myself.”

He laughed, “Not a problem, squirt. Anything to keep your mind on homework as we power through the last couple of weeks.” Turning his attention back to the computer and his papers, he resumed his careful proofing and editing.

Looking up as his brother stood up 40 minutes later, stretching slightly, Sam asked, “You said we’ve been to 10 schools in the last four years, right?”

Dean glanced over at him, “What?” Turning his attention back to the printer and his second paper slowly coming out for a moment before back to his brother. “Yeah, that was my guess, why? I thought you were reading history and science chapters?”

Sam shrugged, “I got done with those a few minutes ago and was thinking about what you said and was curious, so I started making a list.” Holding up his notebook, he showed it to his brother. “I’m coming up with 14 schools, counting this year.”

“Wow, really?” he asked, reaching for the notebook and looking at the list. “Huh,” he said after a minute. Sighing slightly, he handed it back to Sam and shrugged, “You’re probably right, Sammy. Four or five schools a year and yeah … 14.” Reaching out, he ruffled his brother’s hair lightly, “But not for you, you’re going to be stuck at Lincoln all four years. You want me to put in a good word for you before I leave?”

He shook his head and laughed, “No! Ray is all stressed about that and Jason and I keep telling him that no one cares who his brother is and that teachers will forget over the summer.”

Dean laughed, turning back to the printer for a moment before grinning at his brother. “Aww, Sammy, I’m hurt! Unlike Justin, I have an excellent reputation. I’ll just go to all your potential teachers over the next couple of weeks and tell them that my baby brother …”

Sam jumped up from the chair and tackled him, laughing, “You wouldn’t dare, Dean!”

Catching him around the middle, he held him with one hand and with the other hand, ruffled his brother’s hair again. “Oh, so it’s a dare, now, is it?”

“Dean! No!”

“A double dog dare, then?”

Sam laughed, trying to wiggle free. “No! No dare! Don’t embarrass me, please!”

Letting him go, Dean laughed, “Fine, Sammy boy, I’ll stay out of it and let you form an all new reputation for the Winchester name.” Grabbing his finished paper from the printer and stapling it, he said, “Come on then, grab your stuff and come into the kitchen with me and you can help me cook dinner.”

“And Bobby said we need to talk about where to go next weekend,” he said.

Dean nodded, “OK. We can do that.” Grabbing his bookbag from the floor, he put both his papers into his bag before asking, “Got any ideas?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe. What’s for dinner?”

“Left over chicken and rice,” he said. “What we had Monday night.”

Sam grinned, “Chicken bog! You have to call it by its right name.” 

Dean sighed at the stupid name of a very normal chicken, rice and vegetable casserole, “Yes, chicken bog.” Shaking his head, he said, “Actually, since you’re so keen on it, why don’t you heat it up. I’ll get started on the rolls. Do you know how to do that?”

He nodded, “Yep, a bit of the left over chicken broth, some butter, low heat.”

“Good.” Pulling the rolls out of the freezer and turning on the oven, he asked casually, “So what’s your maybe idea for our trip, Sam?”

Spooning the left over rice mixture into a pan, he said, glancing over his shoulder, “Maybe we can go visit a ghost town? See if we can see anything or find a ghost and maybe put it to rest? I was looking at some of Bobby’s books when I was there when you were taking your test and there are some cool looking ones, sort of by the Badlands park which also look neat and we could go see some dinosaur fossils there.” Shrugging again, he said, “Maybe?”

“Interesting idea,” he said with a smile. Pushing off from the counter as the oven’s pre-heat timer went off, he put the rolls in and set the timer. Making sure to keep his voice light and casual, he said, “The Badlands do look really cool and we haven’t been to a ghost town in ages. We helped Dad a few summers ago in that abandoned town down in Alabama, remember? Did you like that?” Opening the silverware drawer, he quickly began to set the table, giving his brother the space he often needed. 

Sam stirred the rice and nodded slowly. “Yeah, it was kind of neat.” Glancing at Dean, he said, “It was kind of creepy, too but doing the research was interesting and that ghost was hurting people so it’s good that you and Dad put her to rest before she really went full on vengeful spirit and really hurt someone.”

Leaning on the counter again, he nodded, “Yeah, that was good and it’s nice to help people who need it. If we go to a ghost town and find something, would you want to do the research on it, or would you also want to help dispatch it by digging up the grave and salting and burning it?” He smiled, “Both are really helpful and valuable. Bobby doesn’t do much digging and salting anymore and Dad would have been lost without him and his research a lot of times.”

“I’m 14 years old,” he said slowly, putting down the spoon and giving Dean a quick smile. “I can do it; I want to help you do it and not just research. Dad was having me help last summer and I want to do more this summer.”

Pushing off against the counter, Dean nodded, “Sounds like fun, Sam. We’ll hit a couple of ghosts town and see what we can find.” He gave him a quick hug, before saying, “And if you change your mind, it’s OK, too. I think dinosaur fossils sound just as cool as, personally. Why don’t we plan on camping there and then play day trips by ear and see how everyone is feeling?”

Sam nodded, hugging him back and then laughed, “Night trips, Dean. If we’re going to hunt ghosts, it should be at night.”

“We’ll see,” he said with a smile as the timer went off. “Is the bog ready?”

He grinned, “Let’s eat some bog!”

“Such a stupid name,” Dean said, laughing as he pulled out the rolls. 

Following Sam upstairs at 9:00 that night, Dean shut his bedroom door and glanced at the phone on one of the nightstands. Silently debating for a minute, he flipped on the TV to help drown out his conversation, adjusted the volume so it wasn’t too loud, and quickly dialed Bobby’s number. “Hey Bobby, it’s Dean,” he said as he sat down in a chair by the window. “Busy?”

Bobby smiled, lowering the volume of his own TV. “Never too busy to talk to you boys. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I was rude to you on Tuesday,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I had decided not to walk at graduation.”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “No apology necessary, Dean. You were right when you said that the day is about you and what you did …”

“No,” he countered. “I might have done a lot of it, but I was wrong when I said it was all about me. I couldn’t have done this year without you. There’s no way it would have happened Bobby.” He sighed, “You’ve been such a huge help, you … you have no idea.”

Bobby smiled, “I appreciate it, kid. We can agree it was a great joint effort with you doing 80% plus of the heavy lifting.”

He laughed, “Thanks. But I am sorry that I didn’t at least talk to you about it. I just …” His voice trailed off as he struggled to explain how he was feeling. “Just … couldn’t,” he finally said softly. “Maybe later.”

“It’s fine, Dean, I promise,” he said. “If you want to talk later, I’m all ears, you know that.” Going silent for a minute, he waited to see if the younger man would continue. “I think your idea of going somewhere next weekend to celebrate sounds like fun and I appreciate being invited,” he finally said after a moment. 

“Of course!”

Bobby laughed again, determined to lighten the mood, “Thanks. Did you boys talk about any ideas or are you still mulling it over.”

Glancing at his closed bedroom door again, he lowered his voice slightly before saying, “Sam mentioned going to the Badlands National Park to see some dinosaur fossils and a couple of ghost towns in that area. He wants to go see if we can find a ghost and dispatch it. I guess when he was over at your house last time, he found some books on ghost towns and thought they looked interesting.”

He was quiet for a moment before saying, “Well, alrighty then. Have to say the Badlands don’t surprise me but the ghost towns certainly do. What happened to being normal?” Pausing again, he added, “How are you feeling about that part of it? I know your father was slowly introducing Sam to stuff.”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, he was and I’m not really that surprised.” Glancing at the door again, he said slowly, “I think for Sam and in Sam’s mind, normal doesn’t necessarily mean 100% Bradys.” He smiled as Bobby laughed. “Yeah, I know. But I think normal means … this; this house, staying put somewhere, normal friends, being safe, and whatnot. Hunting stuff is a fun … hobby, if you will, and normal people have hobbies. It’s when hunting was Dad’s full time obsession that it warped everything. It dictating our lives and pulling him, us, out of the normal realm … that’s what he’s against.” He sighed, “At least that’s how I think he sees it. Hunting for him is normal, to a degree. Ghosts and monsters and whatnot … he knows they exist and that’s normal to him. I think he even finds it exciting and he’s interested in it. He likes solving problems, even if that problem is how best to kill something.”

“But as a side job or a hobby, not a 24/7/365, full time lifestyle,” Bobby said, nodding to himself in his kitchen. “I can see that.”

“Right,” he said, before adding, “and not just not full time but not at the expense of everything and everyone else.” He sighed, thinking back to their conversation the previous month. “Sam told me that he wished Dad had been OK with being normal and only hunting part time. I think … I think that’s what’s the difference for him. A hobby is OK, a lifestyle isn’t.”

Bobby was quiet for a minute before saying, “Makes sense to me. How are you feeling about that?”

He chuckled, “Doesn’t matter to me. I am fully committed to doing whatever Sam needs for the next four plus years. We’ll do normal however he defines it … for the most part.” Laughing, he added, “I mean, if he suddenly decides to go vegan on me, we’ll have to discuss that but hunting … I can be flexible.”

“Vegan is no dairy, no cheese, no eggs, plus the whole meat thing, right?” Bobby asked.

“Right, nothing from animals.”

“That would require some discussion for sure,” he agreed with a laugh. “But, considering how he inhales my burgers, I don’t see that on the horizon.” He laughed again at the idea before asking, “You want me to do some research on some ghost towns or did he already have some in mind?”

“Would you do it, please?” he asked. “He said he read about them in some of your books but I want to make sure that they’re safe, nothing demonic, nothing too sketchy, nothing too … out there. I don’t want to be dealing with a mass murderer or some freak who chopped up his whole family or anything too violent. Just regular, run of the mill ghosts that we can send on their way easily enough.” He paused for a minute, thinking, before adding, “Maybe something he can do a bit of research on, too. Like the history of the town or where people might be buried so we can do a traditional salt and burn thing with the bones.”

“Right,” he agreed and then laughed. “I actually have a few towns in mind that other hunters have used with newbies or their kids. Kind of like training wheel towns. We’ll stay away from Cold Oaks, Sica Hollow, and those more advance places until he’s ready.”

Dean laughed, “Or until I’m ready for him to tackle it. I remember Dad taking me to Bismuth, Bear Rock, Texas Town, and a few others the summer when I was in 5th grade, I think.”

“Those are good but I think Cold Springs would work. It’s near the Badlands area, it’s got a cemetery, and I know it pretty well,” Bobby said. “There are a good number of spirits around but nothing dangerous and certainly nothing demonic. The ghosts I’ve seen are just old miners who refuse to give up, even in death. They just keep plugging away, sure they are just days away from that big find. They almost welcome being sent on their way when given the opportunity.”

“That’s perfect,” he agreed. 

“I’ll pull out my research and give it to him this weekend then,” Bobby said. “Lunch on Saturday?”

“Hold on,” Dean said, as Sam knocked on his closed bedroom door. “Come on in, Sam,” he said, smiling as his brother came in dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. “Do you want to have lunch with Bobby on Saturday?”

Sam smiled, nodding. “Yeah!” Flopping down on his brother’s bed, he closed his eyes and yawned. 

“OK,” he said before turning his attention back to the phone. “We both think lunch on Saturday sounds good. Glenn said the market closes at 12:00 so I’ll be done by 12:30.” Wrapping up the call with Bobby, he hung up and moved over to sit on his bed as he turned off the TV. “What’s up, squirt? Ready for bed?” He glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 9:30. 

He nodded and yawned again, sitting up. “I’m ready for school to be out,” he said, leaning and bumping against Dean.

“Me too,” he said, pulling his brother in for a quick hug before standing up. “Come on, lights out in 30 minutes.” Holding out his hand, he pulled him up. “Let’s go, Sam. Just over a week to go.”

Sam laughed, “Yeah and then I can stay up as late as I want.”

He snorted, “Yeah, dream on, Sammy boy. We’ll just switch to your weekend bedtime but that’s it.” He had learned over the years that his brother did best with a set bedtime and every article he had read in the previous months supported that theory. As a result, he had laid down a set schedule and kept Sam to it. Upstairs by 9:00, in bed by 9:30 to read, lights off by 10:00 so he could be up between 6:30 and 6:45 every morning. On Friday and Saturday nights, everything was simply pushed forward an hour. 

“Really Dean? No one else … never mind,” he said as he caught his brother’s glare and smiled. “Dropping it.”

Pulling back his brother’s cover’s, he smiled, “Smart, Sam, very smart.” He grinned, pulling him into a hug and kissing his head. “Sleep well, Sammy. Love you.”

“You too,” he said, getting into bed and picking up his book.

OOooOOooOOoo

Taking a sip of coffee on Saturday morning, Dean glanced over the short To Do list he had written out for Sam to take care of that morning. He glanced at the clock and poured the rest of his coffee into a travel mug before walking back upstairs. Opening his brother’s bedroom door quietly, he smiled at the sight of his brother fast asleep on his stomach, snoring softly. “Sam,” he whispered, shaking the younger man slightly as he leaned over the bed. “I’m leaving.”

“OK,” he said sleepily, raising his head slightly and blinking in the dim light. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s almost 7:00 and I need to be at the Farmer’s Market by 7:30,” Dean said. “You said to wake you up, remember?”

Sam smiled, “Yeah. Have fun and don’t cut yourself.”

He laughed, “I’ll be careful, promise. I left a list of things for you to do in the kitchen and Bobby will be here around 11:00 to look at the ghost towns for next week with you and then we’re meeting for lunch, so have your chores done by then, OK?”

“Fine,” he said, dramatically, dropping his head back on the pillow with a sigh. “Always with the chores and the lists, Dean! Even on a Saturday.”

Reaching out, Dean gently hit his brother’s shoulder, “That’s the attitude I like to hear! Cheerfully contributing to the upkeep of the house!” He laughed as Sam rolled his eyes and grinned at him. “OK, I’m out of here but I’ll see you at lunch.”

Sam smiled, rolling back over on his side, “Bye! Have fun.”

Ruffling his hair, he said, “You too, Sammy.”

“Hey Glenn! Who’s the new kid?”

Dean looked up from the cash box mid-morning as a middle age guy stepped around the table and into the workstation. “Here you go, ma’am,” he said, handing the older woman her change and a small box containing her newly sharpened scissors. Eyeing the man, he instantly sized him up as a hunter and clearly on friendly terms with Glenn, who laughed at the greeting. 

“Boomer, meet Dean, who is taking over from Brian. Dean, Boomer, one of my special customers,” Glenn said, pausing the grinding wheel as he spoke. “He’s here to get that black box under the table, if you want to grab it for him.”

The other man smiled and held out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Dean.” 

“You too,” Dean said, shaking the offered hand firmly. Glancing back to the milling crowds for a customer for a second, he returned his gaze to Boomer. “Let me get your box,” he said, stepping to the side and rummaging under the side table for a moment before pulling out a small black box. “This one?” he asked, showing it to Glenn.

“Yep, that’s the one.”

Holding it out, Dean smiled again and glanced at the taped on receipt, “Here you go. Looks like $40 even.” 

“Thanks,” he said, putting the box down on the table and pulling out his wallet and two $20s. He smiled as he saw Dean looking at the box. “Curious what’s inside?”

Dean smiled and laughed slightly, putting the bills into the cashbox. “Only if you want to tell me, sir. My father always taught me to mind my own business and let others mind theirs.” Too many hunters were notoriously prickly about questions and, given that they were usually armed to the teeth, their dad had taught them from an early age not to ask questions.

Boomer laughed and glanced at Glenn who has resumed his sharpening. “Do you know what Glenn means when he said I’m a special customer?” he asked. 

He smiled and nodded, “Yeah. I’ve been in the life since I was five and have been hunting since I was about seven.”

Opening the box with a nod, the other man tilted it so Dean could see four arrow heads with large, sharp gold tips. “What do you make of these?”

Glancing back at the crowd for a second, Dean smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. “I’d guess you’re going after a banshee. Hopefully, you get it while it’s in the maiden form and get to enjoy a nice view for a moment.”

Boomer laughed out loud and turned his attention to Glenn. “Good choice, here Glenn, my man!” he yelled over the noise of the sharpener. 

Glenn smiled and nodded, shutting off the machine for a second. “You don’t have to tell me, Boom. I’ve been watching him for years now with his dad, John Winchester, and brother and Bobby Singer, who also brags about him to anyone who will listen. I was thrilled when he settled here last summer. He’s brilliant, trust me.”

Turning his attention to a customer who had just walked up, Dean tried not to blush at the words as he took her two knives and wrote out an order slip and receipt for her. 

“John Winchester?” Boomer asked, studying Dean again. “You’re one of John Winchester’s sons?”

Laying the two new knives on Glenn’s work area, he nodded, “Yeah, I am. I’m Dean Winchester.”

He nodded his head, “Damn sorry to hear about your dad. He was a great hunter. I only knew him in passing, bumped into him from time to time on the road, but great reputation. Have to tell you … lots of drinks were poured in his memory this fall. Seemed like every other gathering of hunters were swapping stories about him for months.” He smiled, “What about you? Are you carrying on with the family business? I bet your dad passed you a fantastic weapons and research cache. I’d love to take …”

“Leave the kid alone, Boom,” Glenn said, interrupting. “He’s just in high school and doesn’t need to start hanging out with degenerates like you, too soon.” Laughing lightly, he shook his head, “And let him get back to work.”

Dean smiled but held his tongue even as the other man looked at him, waiting for an answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple walk up and he turned toward them, answering their questions and handing them a price list. In the background, he could hear the other two men talking for a moment before he saw Boomer walk back to the public side of the table. Once the couple left, he smiled at the other man, saying, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Dean.” Shaking his head, he said, “And again, damn shame about your dad. He was a good man.” 

“Thanks,” he said simply. 

Boomer smiled, watching him, “See you around and let me know if you ever want to go hunting. I live not too far from here.”

Dean studied him for a moment before saying, “Have a great day. I hope those arrowheads work out for you.”

Tipping his head, he said as he walked away, “You too, kid.”

Glancing behind him, he smiled as he saw Glenn watching him. “Those arrowheads were nice,” he said casually. 

“Yep, they turned out good. Let me know if Boomer starts to bother you or anything,” Glenn said. 

He laughed, “Thanks but I can take care of myself.” He nodded toward the collection of knives waiting to be sharpened, “And you have enough on your mind.” Turning back to the front table as another man approached carrying a box, he smiled, “Can I help you?”

Grabbing a load of sheets from the dryer, Sam dumped them on the sofa as the doorbell rang. “Hey Bobby!” he said, smiling as he opened the door. 

“Morning, Sam,” he said, coming inside. “And before you say anything, I remember,” he added, kicking off his shoes with a grin as Sam laughed.

“Talk to Dean, it’s not my rule,” he said, making a face and heading back into the living room. Grabbing a flat sheet from the pile, he laid it out across the sofa and coffee table. “Did you find some cool ghost towns for us to visit? Did Dean tell you we’re going to try to put one to rest?”

He nodded, putting his bag down on the island counter before moving closer to the living room, “I did and I’ll let you boys pick which one you want to go visit. If you want, we can do a bit of research on them first, before you decide.” Watching the younger boy fold the sheet, he said, “Need some help?”

Sam shook his head, “Nope, I’ve got it.” Rolling his eyes, he nodded toward the counter, “You should see the list that Dean left for me, though. Tons of stuff and he wants it all done before we leave for lunch!” Moving on to the fitted sheet, he sighed and repeated the process of stretching it out smoothly before starting to fold it as Bobby went into the kitchen

Picking up the list, he quickly skimmed it. “So, what’s all left on here to do?” he asked, reading the short list. “Strip both beds, wash both sets of sheets …”

“Done and done,” he said with a grin. “And I’m about to put the sheets away.”

“And have you remade both beds and put out clean towels in all three bathrooms?” Bobby asked. He smiled, reading over the detailed list which also spelled out each step, down to ‘put folded and clean sheets away in the linen closet’. Clearly, nothing was being left to chance or Sam’s personal interpretation on when a task was considered completed. 

Sam nodded, “Yep; I just have the towels left to fold up but they’re in the dryer right now so I can’t do them yet. I’ve also emptied the dishwasher, too, already.”

Bobby laughed, “It looks like you’re basically done then.”

Making a face, he said, “Yeah but that’s after working all morning on stuff! The sheets and the towels were three loads!” Picking up a pillowcase, he quickly folded it and then repeated the action with the other one.

“My heart bleeds for you, kid,” he said dryly, looking at the two neatly folded and stacked sheet sets. Walking back into the living room, he grabbed one set and said, “Come on, since you are so overworked, I’ll help you carry them upstairs.”

Sam grinned, “Thanks! And then we’ll look at ghost towns and figure out which one will be the best.” Walking up the steps, he asked, “Have you been to any of them?”

“I have and I can show you which two I’d recommend, if you want,” he said. Opening the linen closet between their bedrooms, he wasn’t surprised to see it neat and organized. “On this shelf?” he asked, nodding toward the empty spots. A quick glance into the bedrooms showed, unsurprisingly, tightly made beds and picked up rooms. 

Sam nodded, giving a small laugh as he said, “Yeah and trust me, Dean will notice if they’re in the wrong spot. A place for everything and everything in its place.” He laughed, putting his sheets down before saying, “Ghost town time! Where are we going for lunch? Chili’s?”

“No, Slate’s for burgers.”

Following Bobby back downstairs, Sam grinned, “That’s perfect! It’s Dean’s favorite and he deserves something good after working all day and I know he’s OK with Chili’s but I think he’s kind of sick of it too. Did you know he left here at like 7:00 this morning? He had to be at the market at 7:30! On a Saturday!”

Bobby laughed, shaking his head at both the torrent of words and the outrage, “Oh, the humanity.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” he said with a smile. Nodding toward the kitchen table, he said, “Have a seat and let me grab my stuff and I’ll show you the towns I think look good.”

Sam nodded, “Cool!” Going into the kitchen, he opened a container on the counter and pulled out two cookies. “Want a cookie? We made them last night.”

“Sure,” he said, “but we’re going to have lunch soon.”

“I’m starving,” Sam said with a smile, grabbing another cookie and passing it over to the older man. “Plus, they are oatmeal so they’re healthy.”

“And dark chocolate is good for you,” he said, noting the chocolate chips. He smiled as Sam grinned at him and nodded. Taking a bite, he nodded, “Excellent!”

“You should take some home with you,” he said, moving toward the table. “We have plenty and it’s fun to make cookies. We never did it before, or at least not from real stuff.” Shoving half of the cookie in his mouth, he chewed quickly before saying, “We use to do the tube ones, which are good too. You just have to scoop or slice those but this is better and you can tweak stuff. Like we did chocolate chips and left out raisins.”

Pulling out the 3 books and a notepad, he nodded, “Raisins are gross.”

“Exactly!” Sam said, laughing. “Luckily, Dean thinks so too.” Sitting down at the table, he ate his second cookie and begin flipping through one of the books. “Which ones have you been to?”

Bobby pulled it closer and pointed to the three marked pages, “Let’s look at these.” Moving quickly past some of the worst towns, he settled on the first he had marked. “Read about these and then we’ll talk.” Sliding the book back toward Sam, he turned back to his supplies and pulled out the rest to look at. A sudden memory hit him hard and he smiled at the memory of sitting with a 6 year old Sam, looking at a Latin description of an ancient myth. They had sat together at his kitchen table, slowly reading it together with Bobby translating it. At the time, he had treated the story like a fairy tale, no different than Disney or any other cartoon story, and Sam had been blissfully unaware of the truth. Now, watching him and planning a hunt, no matter how safe or small, together, he had no idea where the time had gone. 

Glancing up from the book 10 minutes later, Sam grinned, “Cool! Good choices! What does it mean when they talk about some of the ghosts being ladies of the night in Texas Town? Does that mean that their ghosts only come out at night? If we go during the day, are they not around?”

Bobby stared at him for a second before quickly nodding, “Yes, that’s exactly what it means.” Pulling a map toward them, he pointed to several marked towns, eager to change the subject. “Here, let me show you were each one is and where the Badlands are.”

Leaning forward, Sam grinned, “This is so much fun!”

He laughed, “Yep, it can be.”

Cleaning the grinder before putting the cover on the machine and wrapping the cord, Glenn smiled as Dean folded up one of the tables three hours later. “So, what did you think? Want to keep doing this with me?”

He laughed, saying, “I had fun and as for if I keep doing this … that sort of seems like it’s your decision.” He smiled and gave a small shrug before asking, “What did you think?”

“You did great,” Glenn confirmed. “Good with the customers, you can make change without a calculator, and you handled Boomer well. I’m thinking all positive things.” He smiled, “Want to be The Edge Pro’s second employee?”

Dean laughed, “Yep.” Reaching over, he folded up the last table and lifted it, “Where to, boss?”

“So, how did it go?” Bobby asked, sliding into the booth at the restaurant that Dean had gotten for them when he arrived a few minutes earlier.

Sliding in next to his brother, Sam bumped against him slightly as he asked, “Did you have fun?”

Dean laughed, “It went great and yes, I had fun. Glenn’s happy, I’m happy, the money is good …” He shrugged, “Can’t ask for a better summer job.”

Bobby smiled, “Good! I’m really glad to hear it.” 

“Can we please order some onion rings before lunch?” Sam asked. “I’m starving.”

Dean looked at him for a moment before saying, “I don’t know … did you get all your chores done before you guys came here?” He grinned, “If not, I think it’s stale bread and water for you!”

Sam rolled his eyes, laughing. “Yes, everything is done!” Turning to Bobby, he asked, “Right? And it was all basically done before you got there!”

“Yes, it was and the towels were dried, folded, and put away before we left the house,” Bobby confirmed solemnly. He grinned at Sam, “And it was an excellent job for such a long, extensive list.”

Dean groaned, shaking his head. “Don’t buy his pity me act, Bobby! It was a normal list.” He grinned as Sam started to protest and quickly ruffled his brother’s hair, pulling him close for a second, “But still, good job, Sammy. Thank for taking care of all that for us, it will make the rest of the weekend go by much better.” 

Sam smiled, “Thanks.” Leaning into his brother for a moment, he laughed as he said, “I even made sure to get the towels and wash cloths in the kitchen swapped out and washed, even though you just said the bathroom ones.”

“Wow!” Dean explained, smiling, holding up a hand, “High five for going the extra mile and that certainly  
deserves onion rings.”

Sam laughed again, grinning as he gave his bother a high five.

“Tell me about the ghost town research you were doing,” Dean said after they placed the order for food and drinks. “Did you settle on one?”

Glancing at Sam, Bobby nodded, “I think so. What do you think, Sam? Got one in mind?”

He nodded, turning to Dean, “Bobby and I researched Cold Springs. It’s an old mining town and not that far from the Badlands area so it’ll be easy. Bobby’s been there, already, so he knows it, and it has a cemetery so if we need to salt and burn something, we can.”

Recognizing the name from their earlier discussion, Dean nodded. “Sounds good! We’ll leave right after the Farmer’s Market next Saturday then.”

“I’ve reserved a two-bedroom cabin in the park,” Bobby said. “It’s for Saturday through Tuesday, which gives us three full days.”

Dean smiled, “No leaking tents?”

He laughed, “No, not if I can help it. My knees and back prefer beds at this point.”

Sam laughed, “Much better! I still remember that horrible tent when Dad took us out hunting a …” He went quiet as Dean nudged him under the table and shot him a quick look as the server approached. Leaning back as she delivered the plate of onion rings, he said quietly, “Sorry.”

As soon as she left, Dean smiled at him, “It’s fine. Just didn’t want her to get an earful. What do you remember?”

He shrugged and shook his head, “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s OK, Sam, promise,” Dean said. “What were you saying?”

He shrugged, “I was just saying we had a horrible tent with Dad a couple of years ago.”

Bumping up again him, Dean smiled again before saying quietly, “Seriously, Sam. It’s fine and not a problem. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Watching them quietly, Bobby saw the younger boy smile slightly and nod. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times a similar exchange had happened over the years. He knew John could be strict, drawing hard lines between him and the boys and the outside world, and had no hesitation in pointing out when one or both stepped over the line. Watching them for the last 10 years, he could easily see Dean always playing the peacemaker, smoothing feathers, and making sure that Sam didn’t take the reprimands too seriously. 

Sam reached for an onion ring and nodded again. Sighing slightly, he said quietly, “Cabins are better than tents.”

“Yep,” Dean confirmed, glancing at him again and nodded. “For sure and since this is a celebration of my graduating high school, I’m thrilled not to be spending it stuck in a tiny, molding tent, sleeping on rocks, and inches from you snoring away.” Bumping against the younger man, he grinned, turning to the older man and saying, “This one time, Bobby, I swear, Sam had a head cold and it sounded like a bear was in the tent with us.”

“Did not!” he protested, laughing. 

Bobby laughed as Dean tilted his head back and gave a fake snore.

“Dean!” Sam cried, shaking his head. “I did not!”

The younger man responded by snorting, smacking his lips, and snoring again. 

“Yes, I think we can all agree that cabins are the way to go,” Bobby said, cutting them off and helping to prevent the conversation from spiraling.

Dean grinned, as Sam laughed, saying, “So tell me what kind of ghosts we’re looking at in Cold Springs.” Picking up another onion ring, he dipped it in the ranch dressing and took a bite.

“Mostly miners,” Sam said, glancing at Bobby for confirmation. “Guys who are still there, digging in the mine and on their old claims. Some of them are in the mine, some are in town, some are death echoes, and others are just sort of … hanging around.” He shrugged, “We’ll see what’s around when we get there.” Eating another onion ring, he added, “And none of them are ladies of the night, so we can go during the day or night.”

Glancing at his brother, he said, “What?”

“Texas Town, another ghost town we were looking at,” Bobby said quickly, “has a lot of ghosts who were described as ladies of the night. I explained to Sam that means those were the kind of ghosts who only come out at night.”

Smiling, Dean nodded, “Oh, got it. OK and that’s good to know we can go any time.” Eating another onion ring, he caught Bobby’s eye and slowly shook his head, grinning at the older man. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“Get a move on it, Sam!” Dean called the next Friday. “It’s your last day … neither one of us wants you to be late.” Pouring cereal into two bowls and quickly slicing up to two bananas to go on top, he put them on the table as he heard his brother come down the stairs. “Got everything?” he asked, glancing at the clock again. The later than normal start was throwing off his mental schedule and every time he saw the time, he fought against a brief bit of panic that they were late. 

Sam nodded, “Yep.” He grinned, “I can’t wait!” Holding up a paper, he said, “And I got my paper for Mr. Baxter.”

Silently debating about nixing the idea, Dean just grinned and nodded, “Just remember not to gloat when you give it to him, Sammy boy.”

Sam laughed, saying, “It’s going to be a great day!”

He smiled, “A great half day, if we keep moving and aren’t late.” It had been a busy week but he had finished up his last two finals yesterday, turned in his final paper on Monday, and was officially done. All seniors were off today for afternoon graduation practice and he was spending the morning packing for their trip the next day. He had said good-bye to a couple of his teachers but hadn’t bothered with any of the other students. As he got into his car yesterday after his last final, he briefly wondered if any of them would notice he wasn’t there tomorrow and had guessed not. They had been friendly when he had been with Jen but after she dumped him, they had all slowly drifted away. Taking a deep breath, he pushed away dark thoughts and focused on their morning routine. 

“And you’re picking us up at noon, right,” Sam asked, grabbing the milk from the refrigerator.

Sitting down at the table, Dean nodded. “Yep. I’ll be out in front before you get out and we’ll all go to Chili’s for lunch and then the movie is at 1:45.”

Pouring milk into his cereal bowl before passing the cartoon off to his brother, he grinned, “Ray and Jason are both so excited! It’s going to be really cool. Thanks again, Dean.”

“Of course,” he said, pouring his own milk. 

Sam smiled, laughing. “And then we leave tomorrow! I can help you pack tonight, if you want.”

He nodded, “Great, thanks. Once I drop you off, I’m going grocery shopping …”

“Don’t forget the s’mores stuff,” Sam said, interrupting.

“On the list, don’t worry,” he confirmed. “Bobby’s coming over tomorrow to pack up his car with our stuff and food, and we’ll leave from here once I get home. You can help me pack up the food tonight once we get back from the movies.” Nodding toward the cereal, he said, “Eat, but chew and don’t inhale.”

Sam laughed before taking a large bite of his cheerios. 

“Dean, oh hey,” Jen said in a surprised voice as she turned the corner at the grocery store and almost bumped into him.

He smiled quickly at her, moving his cart out of the way as he said, “Hi Jen.”

She studied him for a moment and then glanced at his cart. “That’s a lot of food.”

Giving a small shrug, he said, “Weekend plans and then getting some stuff in the house for next week. Just taking advantage of the day off, you know?”

She nodded, holding up her small basket. “Grandparents are coming into town and my mom asked me to pick up a few things,” she explained. “I’m glad to see you though …” her voice trailed off as she glanced at the floor. 

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He had tried several times since the class trip to talk to her and had been rebuffed each time. Now, he found he simply didn’t care. High school and those stupid games had always been unimportant to him and now he was finally done and moving on. “OK,” he said after a moment, “have a great day.”

“You too!” she said quickly. “See you this afternoon at rehearsal. Afterwards, maybe we can go get something to eat and catch up? It’s been a while ….”

He smiled and shook his head, interrupting her and saying, “No. I won’t be there and I’ve got other things going on. Plus, you told me I was an asshole for doing my best to take care of my 13 year old brother and daring to put him ahead of you. I tried to explain it to you a few times but you wouldn’t even give me the time of day. So … why would I bother again or want to do anything with you?” He shrugged, “I’m done.” Moving up the aisle, he turned the corner and smiled, feeling at peace with his final words. 

Jason laughed, handing over his bookbag before sliding into the backseat of the car after Ray. “Thanks, Dean,” he said shyly. 

“Sam …” Dean said with a quick wink, holding out his hand for his brother’s bookbag and putting it with the other two in the passenger seat. 

He grinned and slid in with his friends. Laughing when Dean got in the car, he said, “To Chili’s, my good man.” Next to him, Ray and Jason laughed.

Dean doffed an imaginary cap at the familiar joke and bowed his head. In a fake British accent, he said, “Of course, sir.” Laughing, he pulled away from the school before asking, “Everyone happy about getting out of school? Got any fun summer plans?” 

Ray groaned dramatically, “This will probably be the highlight of my summer! With Frank and Alex home all summer, Justin and I have to share a bedroom again. That means I actually end up sleeping in the living room most of the time because he locks me out so he can have private time with his girlfriend on the phone.”

“Ohhh,” Jason said, making kissing noises with his lips. 

Silently listening to the discussion and commiserating coming from the backseat to make sure it didn’t get too lewd or out of control, Dean had to smile at the ongoing drama of the other boys’ lives and privately felt proud of the fact that Sam was more mature then his friends. Even, if he had to admit to himself, that was a low bar and even then, his brother didn’t clear it all the time. 

Sam opened the car door after parking and smiled as Dean led them toward the restaurant. Bumping against his brother as they walked, he whispered, “Thanks again, Dean. This is really cool.”

He smiled and opened the door for the group. 

“Welcome to Chili’s!” the hostess said, grinning at them. “Celebrating the end of school?”

Jason nodded, “Yes! And going to the movies after this!”

“Fun,” she said, smiling at Dean. “Table for four?”

He held up a magazine and smiled at her, “Actually, two tables, please. One for just me and one for them … I don’t eat with the rabble. But some place where I can keep an eye on them, please. They’re mostly house trained but you never know …”

She laughed and nodded, “Follow me.”

“Thanks,” he said grinning at her. 

Stopping by his table for the second time in 10 minutes later, she said, “Just checking to see if you need anything.”

He glanced up from the magazine, smiling at her. “Nope, I’m good but thanks.”

She glanced over at the booth across the aisle up and up slightly with the three boys. “Your brothers or cousins or ….?” She let the answer hang in the air, smiling at him again.

Dean grinned, closing the magazine. Motioning toward the seat across from him, he said, “Want sit for a minute?”

She sighed, saying, “I can’t in case my manager comes to the front but I can stand here … if that’s OK with you.”

Nodding, he said, “I’m happy to do whatever keeps you here and not in trouble with your manager. And yes, the one in the short sleeve plaid is my younger brother. He just finished 8th Grade and I’m taking him and two of his friends out for lunch and then to see the new Jurassic Park movie.”

She glanced behind her to look at the boys again before turning her attention back to him. “That’s very sweet of you and he’s cute! He’ll be amazing looking when he’s your age, assuming he’s got your good genes.” Grinning, she winked at him and walked away to help a new group coming in the door. 

“Dude,” Jason said, leaning in and whispering to Sam after their waitress delivered their food 15 minutes later, “I think your brother is going to get lucky with the hostess.”

Ray grinned, turning around quickly to look at Dean chatting with the hostess. Turning back to the table, he nodded, “She’s totally into him.”

“That’s the 3rd or 4th time she’s come over to chat since we sat down and she’s not even his waitress,” Jason continued. “He’s so lucky.”

Sam shook his head and grinned before saying, “Maybe. He had a girlfriend for a while this year but they broke up a couple of months ago, I think.”

Ray laughed, “Looks like he might have a new one almost lined up.” Grinning, he added, “Maybe you can go on a double date with them and Emma this summer.”

Sam laughed, blushing and shook his head. “I think she’s moved on to Austin and isn’t interested in me anymore. He gave her a rose today when we were leaving. Did you see that?”

Jason snorted, “He’s a suck up and you’re much better than he is. Go after her and I bet you can beat him.”

“Make sure she meets your brother over the summer and she’ll be all into you,” Ray said, grinning. “Justin swears that’s how he got his first girlfriend. She was the younger sister of Alex’s girlfriend at the time.” Turning as the hostess still at Deans table laughed, Ray sighed and shook his head, “He’s so lucky, she’s hot. I bet Emma will love to double date.”

Jason nodded, laughing, “Very hot.”

“Who’s hotter, her or Justin’s girlfriend?” Sam asked, eager to turn the conversation away from him and Emma. 

Ray thought for a second before saying, “Her, for sure. Justin’s girlfriend has pimples and her breasts are too small.”

“Ew, man!” Jason said loudly, making a face. “You’re not supposed to notice your brother’s girlfriend’s breasts!”

Sam laughed and nodded, “Yeah.”

Ray shrugged, laughing, “They’re right there and she doesn’t always wear a bra so …” 

Glancing around Kimberly the hostess, Dean eyed the group of laughing boys and glared, causing them to settle down to a quieter round of laughter. He turned back to her and smiled, “Sorry, what were you saying? The rabble were getting a bit loud.”

She grinned, “Thanks but it’s OK. At least they’re not drunk, unlike some of the sports groups we get on Fridays and Saturday.”

He laughed, “I hope they’re not drunk, at least! I picked them up straight from school.”

Kimberly giggled, “One would hope. So, what about you? In college or do you work some place?”

“I am actually graduating high school tomorrow, Lincoln, and going to USD in the fall. I also work with a family friend at the Farmer’s Market during the summer.” Smiling, he said, “What about you?”

She grinned, “I’m graduating tomorrow, too, O’Gorman, and then to Mount Marty this fall, nursing, hopefully.”

“Wow,” he said, nodding. “All planned out.”

Shrugging, she said, “Trying to at least.” Shifting her weight, she smiled at him. Stepping back as his waitress laid both checks down on his table.

He smiled, shifting, and pulling out his wallet and credit card. “I know you probably get this a lot and I don’t want to be just some idiot in restaurant who just asks you out.”

Kimberly laughed, “I bet you’re a lot of things, Dean, but idiot isn’t something that comes to my mind.”

He grinned. “If you let me borrow a pen, can I give you my number and maybe we can go out next weekend or sometime? I’ve got plans with the family this weekend … but this way there’s no pressure. If you call me, great, if not … then at least you helped me have a great lunch.” 

She nodded, “Let me get a pen.”

Getting out of the car at Jason’s house several hours later, Dean opened the passenger door and grabbed the boy’s bookbag. “Here you go!” he said, smiling. 

Jason grinned, “Thanks again for lunch and the movies, Dean. It was great and I very much appreciate you doing that for me.”

Dean smiled, recognizing rehearsed and well drilled into manners, “Of course. Tell your parents Hi for …” At the sound of the front door opening, he glanced behind him and saw Meredith, Jason’s mother, coming outside. “Hey!” he called, waving.

She grinned, coming down the walkway. As she got closer, she smiled and held him a card. “Happy Graduation, Dean! I understand that the big day is tomorrow.”

He laughed, taking the card and nodding. “Yep, thank you so much and then on to USD in August.”

Meredith nodded, “Well, I’m sure your father wishes he was here today to celebrate with you.”

Swallowing quickly, he nodded, “Sam and I both wish he were here, too. But we’re doing OK and looking forward to a good summer with our uncle.”

She smiled and waved at Sam in the backseat next to Ray. Leaning in closer, she laughed, “Millie is looking forward to the summer too with Bobby. I understand that they’ve gone out a couple of times …”

Dean laughed, holding up his hands, “No, no, no … way too much information, Meredith! Please! I’m still an impressionable youth!”

She laughed again, nodding and holding up her hands in mock surrender. “OK, in the interest of still preserving the last fragments of your innocence.” Studying him for a second, she leaned in and gave him a quick hug, saying, “But do have a good graduation tomorrow and I’m sure your father is watching and feeling proud. You and Sam are in our prayers.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he said, nodding. Stepping back as she released him, he smiled and waved again, “Have a great evening and see you soon!”

“Bye and thanks again,” Jason said.

Leaning forward, as the car pulled away, Sam asked, “What did she give you?”

“A card for graduation,” Dean said, smiling and glancing in the rearview mirror. “That was really nice of her but sit back and put your seat belt back on.”

“Seat belts aren’t required for the backseat,” Sam said with a huff, sitting back.

“Excuse me?” Dean asked, shooting his brother a look in the mirror.

Sam flushed, “Nothing, sorry.”

Pulling up to Ray’s house a few minutes later, Dean waved as he saw both parents outside in the driveway. “Have fun at graduation tomorrow, Ray,” he said, putting the car in park. 

The boy sighed and pushed open the car door. “Thanks so much for lunch and movie today, I had a great time,” he said with a smile. “It was a lot better than tomorrow will be, I’m sure.”

“Oh! Are those your grandparents?” Sam asked, seeing an older couple come out of the house.

Ray grinned, “Yeah. That’s Grammy and PopPop, they are my Dad’s parents.” Glancing at him, he said, “Do you want to meet them? They’re cool.”

Leaning forward, Sam asked, “Can I Dean?”

He shrugged, “Knock yourself out, Sam.” Shutting off the car, he got out too and walked to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for Ray’s backpack. “Hey, sorry to barge in,” he said, waving to Raymond and Agnes. 

“How’s it going?” Raymond asked, walking down and meeting them halfway. “Thanks again for the afternoon, it was a great treat for Ray. He’s been excited about it all week.”

Dean laughed, watching his brother and friend walk up the lawn toward the older couple. “Ray wanted to introduce Sam to his grandparents.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to meet him after hearing stories for the last couple of days,” the other man said, smiling. “How was the movie?”

“Good!” he said, nodding, turning most of his attention to the other man. “And Ray was great, he’s a really good kid. He and Sam and Jason had a lot of fun together, no problems at all.”

Raymond smiled, nodding, “Good.” Reaching out, he squeezed Dean’s shoulder for a second before asking in a quiet voice, “So … not that it’s really my business … but what’s this I hear about you not participating in graduation tomorrow?”

He laughed and shrugged, “Nothing really. I have work in the morning and then Sam, our uncle, and I are heading out to do some camping in the Badlands National Park. A bit of family time seemed right for the weekend, just the three of us, we rented a big cabin … it’ll be fun!”

“Well, I understand that,” he said, nodding. “I’m sure it’s a hard weekend.” He glanced at his parents and smiled fondly, adding, “I didn’t want to go to my high school graduation but Pops made me. Said his parents made him so he was going to make me.”

Dean laughed and waved, calling out as Agnes came down the driveway. “How are you?”

She came up, linking her arm through her husband’s and smiled. “Good. Such a pretty afternoon!” Glancing at Raymond for a second, she said, “We were sorry to hear that you’re not coming to graduation tomorrow but wanted to still get you something to mark the occasion.” Handing him a card, she smiled. “Happy Graduation, Dean! Which seems funny to say because I tend to forget that you’re Justin’s age after the stories that Sam tells about you guys and our conversations.” She laughed, “And I mean that as a compliment! Just … hard to wrap my mind around, you know?”

“I get it and thank you so much,” he said, taking the card and smiling, cutting off any more awkward explanations. “I appreciate it. I was just telling Raymond here that we’re leaving for vacation tomorrow.”

He nodded, smiling at his wife, “Camping over in the Badlands. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Maybe take the boys this summer?”

Agnes laughed, patting his chest, “Sounds like a great Boys Only Trip, honey.”

Dean laughed with them before taking a step away and calling, “Come on, Sam. We need to get going.” Turning back to them, he said, “Thanks again for the card and good wishes. It’s been a great year and I appreciate all your help.”

She smiled at him, “Oh, you’re so welcome. We’ll be thinking of you tomorrow; I’m sure it’s hard without you dad to see you get your diploma. But you’ll have a great trip and we’ll see you and Sam soon, I’m sure.”

He nodded, “Thanks and yeah, hard weekend, but we’ll have a great time.” Smiling and glancing over as Sam bumped up against him, “Ready?”

Sam nodded, “Bye Mr. and Mrs. Catlos.”

“Bye Sam,” Raymond said. “When you get back, tell Ray all about it and maybe I’ll be able to take him and his brothers this summer, too.”

Sam nodded, “OK!” Sliding into the front seat a minute later, he saw the card and laughed. “Did you get another card?”

He smiled, nodding, “Yep.” Handing them both to his brother, he said, “Hold these for me, OK? We’ll open them when we get home.”

Shaking the cards, Sam grinned, “I think there’s something in it! Not just a card.”

Dean laughed, “OK. We’ll open them when we get home and see.” Driving carefully, he tried to focus on his brother’s recap of the movie they had just seen and his favorite parts but instead found his mind drifting to the cards, the words he knew were supposed to be comforting but weren’t, and replaying scenes from last summer, last May, conversations, and all the changes. Blinking back sudden tears, he sniffled slightly, shaking his head.

“Are you OK?” Sam asked quietly

“What?” he asked, glancing over and giving his brother a quick smile. Taking a breath, he said, “Yeah, I’m OK. Thinking about Dad but that’s OK. It’s normal to think about him.” 

Sam nodded, “Right. Normal and uniquely normal.” He nodded, added, “Yeah and that’s OK.”

He laughed, saying, “Exactly.” Turning into their driveway a moment later, he opened the garage door and said, “Let’s go open up these cards and see what’s inside.”

“Hello,” Bobby said, answering his private phone 20 minutes later.

“Bobby,” Sam whispered from the office, pushing the door shut with his foot, “I need your help.”

Standing up in his kitchen, he felt a cold chill run through his body. “What’s wrong, Sam? Is Dean with you?” Reaching for his gun, as he spoke, he mentally began to run down how best to control the situation until he could get there as he checked to make sure it was loaded. “Can you get …”

“Dean’s graduation is tomorrow and I didn’t think about getting him a card,” Sam said, interrupting and still whispering urgently. “I didn’t know you were supposed to do that but he’s gotten two cards from some of my friends’ parents that he’s friends with and now I feel stupid and I need your help.”

Closing his eyes, the other man bit back a curse and sighed slightly, putting the gun back on the counter. “You need my help getting a card for Dean?”

“Yes!” Sam said quickly before quickly adding, “Please.” Sighing, he shook his head, “I didn’t think about it but now I feel stupid because I didn’t know!”

Bobby laughed slightly, “It’s fine, kid. It’s not a big deal but I can help, for sure.”

“Thank you,” he said, sighing again. “He said he didn’t care but he also opened the two cards from Jason and Ray’s parents and seemed to like them so I have to do something! Ray’s parents even got him a gift card to Barnes & Noble!”

“Not a problem,” he said, sitting back down. “I’ll come over early tomorrow and we’ll go shopping, OK? We’ll get a card and maybe pick up a gift if you see something you think he’d like. It doesn’t have to be big. You can give it to him tomorrow night at the cabin or before we leave, if you want.”

Sam grinned, “Yeah! Thank you! He’s been making fun of these stupid Class of 1997 Bears at Hy-Vee for the last couple of weeks, maybe we can get him one of those.” Laughing, he added, “They’re really stupid looking.”

“We’ll find something,” he confirmed, smiling at the idea of the younger man’s expression if he was gifted a teddy bear. “I’ll be over around 9:30, that gives us plenty of time.”

“Thank you!” Sam said again. “I didn’t know … and I don’t want to screw it up.”

“It’s OK,” he repeated. “Nothing is screwed up. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Hanging up the phone a minute later, he laughed, shaking his head. Sitting back down with a sigh, he tried to push away the feeling that he had screwed up by not thinking about Sam getting his brother a card or a gift for graduation. It hadn’t even crossed his mind when he had impulsively picked out a card the week before during his own grocery shopping. In all the paperwork he had received in the last six months from Hospice and the Court system and that he gathered on his own to figure out how to be supportive and help, nothing had really prepared him for the reality of the situation he now found himself in.  
Turning back to the research he was doing for Rufus on how best to tackle a nest of soul eaters that seemed to be infecting a house in Michigan, he wondered if every parent felt the same way – just waiting to trip over the next obstacle they didn’t even know existed and how they ever got past that feeling. 

OOooOOooOOoo

“These are all stupid,” Sam said, sighing as he glanced at Bobby standing next to him in the card department of Walmart the next morning. Picking up a graduation card with a monkey on it, he made a face before putting it back.

Bobby laughed, “Yeah and not sure they really seem like your brother.” He picked up one that read ‘Worth the hassle for the tassel’ and said, “How about this one? It just says ‘Congrats Grad’ on the inside and you can write something more, if you like.”

Sam huffed and shook his head, studying the cards. “Did you get him a card?” he asked suddenly. 

He nodded, “Yeah but you’d probably think mine is stupid too.” Grinning, he said, “Too many words, no pictures, and kind of sentimental.” Glancing at his watch, he shifted slightly, “Not to pressure you, kid but …” 

“I know,” he said with another sigh. 

Biting back a laugh, Bobby shook his head and silently wondered how Dean dealt with the drama. “How about looking at just the blank cards? You can find a picture you like and write something inside?” He lightly shook the large container of peanut M&Ms and said, “Or just give him your gift and say Happy Graduation and don’t worry about the card.”

Sam laughed, “Yeah, those are going to make him really happy. He might not even notice there’s no card.”

“Right,” he agreed, watching the boy still studying the cards in front of him. 

Slowly roaming away from the graduation cards, Sam skimmed some of the other cards near-by. “Not birthday, not wedding,” he said quietly, reading the headers. Pausing in front of the simple congratulations cards, he grinned and grabbed one. “This!” he said a moment later, laughing. “Look! It’s perfect!” Laughing again, he grinned, “Perfect!”

“Here,” Bobby said, thrusting the container of M&Ms at him. “Hold your 50lbs of candy while I look.” He winked at Sam and shook his head, saying gruffly, “Never seen someone so excited about a card before.”

Sam giggled and took the candy, handing off the card. “And it’s not even 4lbs, Bobby. 50lbs, as if!”

He smiled, glancing at the front of the card and the picture of a growing potato, carrot, and beet, with the words ‘Rootin’ for You!’ written on top. Opening it, he chuckled as he read the inside and nodded. “This is perfect, Sam. ‘I see all the vegetables you ate paid off! Congratulations!’,” he read aloud. Nodding again, he said, “Perfect.”

“Yep! Dean’s going to love it and the candy,” he said smiling.

Bobby nodded, “Good, now let’s get out of here before your brother gets home.” Walking back up the aisle, he grinned as Sam bumped into him. “What’s up, Sam?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. Just thanks for help me with this.”

Pulling the boy into a quick side hug as they walked, he said, “Of course!” He smiled as Sam laughed again and thought again about how wonderfully strange his life had gotten. 

“I’m home,” he called, stepping into the house and smiling as Sam turned around in the kitchen and grinned at him. Ruffling his brother’s hair as he pulled him into a quick hug, he asked, “Have a good morning?”

He nodded, “Yep. How was yours?”

“Excellent but happy to be home and ready to hit the road! Where’s Bobby?”

Sam nodded toward the open patio door. “He’s watering my vegetables because I had to put away the dishes before we left.” Making a face, he sighed, “I forgot to start them earlier and they just finished.” He glanced at his brother, “Sorry.”

Dean shrugged, “Not a problem. You remembered and got it done, that’s all that matters.” Smiling, he bumped against him gently, refusing to care about if his exact instructions were followed as long as the chore was done. “It’s all good, Sammy. Do you need help?”

He smiled, “Nope, I’m good and just finished.” Eyes darting to the dining table, he grinned.

Following his brother’s gaze, Dean smiled at the bright red gift bag with a graduation cap printed on the front sitting here. “What’s that?”

Sam laughed, asking, “What do you think it is?” Turning as Bobby came in the door, he said, “Dean just saw his present!”

Dean laughed, “For me?”

“Of course,” Bobby said, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

Bouncing slightly, Sam said, “Open it! It’s from me.”

Walking over to the table, he studied the gift. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Sam.”

He rolled his eyes, saying, “I know I didn’t have to get you anything but I wanted to get you something. It’s not a big deal …”

“And a card?” he asked, recognizing his brother’s handwriting. When Sam nodded, he grinned again, picking it up and quickly opening it. Laughing out loud a second later as he read the inside, he shook his head, “That’s great, Sam. Rooting for me and eating my vegetables. That’s perfect. When did you get this stuff?”

Sam laughed and nodded, “I knew you’d like it as soon as I saw it!” Nudging the gift bag slightly, he grinned at his brother. “Bobby took me shopping,” he said, sidestepping the exact question. 

Laughing again, Dean pulled out the tissue paper and peered inside and grinned, shaking his head. “Peanuts grow from plants so I guess they could be considered a vegetable,” he said, pulling out the large plastic container of M&Ms. “These will keep me in stock for months!”

Bobby snorted, “Who are you kidding, kid? Months? I bet those will be gone before June!” He laughed, shaking his head as he said, “Never seen a thing of M&Ms that big.”

Laughing, Sam nodded. “Oh yeah! A week, tops! He ate a pound bag like two weekends ago, just over the weekend!”

Dean laughed, pulling his brother close and tickling him. “Sam! No telling tales out of school!” 

“Dean! Stop!” he said, laughing, curling up and trying to pull away. 

Pulling him close, Dean kissed his head and hugged him tightly. “Thank you for the perfect card and wonderful gift, Sam,” he said firmly. 

Hugging him back tightly, Sam grinned. “Happy graduation!”

“We’re going to have so much more fun camping then going to some stupid ceremony,” he confirmed.

Sam laughed again, “Yeah! Ray’s jealous.”

“Speaking of camping,” Bobby said, letting his voice trail off.

Dean laughed, “Yeah, let me go change and we’ll get out of here.”

“Sam and I will pack the car,” the older man confirmed. Nodding toward the two duffle bags packed and sitting on the floor, he said, with a grin, “Go put those in the car, Sam.” 

He rolled his eyes and grinned as he picked up one of the duffle bags. “Always happy to help,” he added, grinning manically. 

Bobby laughed, going over and picking up the other bag, “Let’s go, kid. And remember, the faster we get the car packed, the sooner we’ll get lunch.”

Dean laughed, pausing at the bottom of the steps. “Magic words, Bobby! Sam will do almost anything for food.” Putting his card from Sam on his dresser a moment later, he grinned as he read the cover again. It was corny and silly but also perfect as he immediately thought of all the dinners they had cooked together and eaten together, shopped for, planned for, and gotten through. Quickly changing out of his logo work t-shirt into a plain t-shirt, he took a deep breath, glancing around the bedroom to make sure everything was neat. Noticing the drawer in his nightstand was partially opening, he felt himself blush slightly. Glancing inside, he immediately saw that the magazines were in a different order; the one he had used the night before was now in the middle, with three others piled on top. Not sure if he should laugh or curse or just ignore it, he closed the drawer and went back downstairs. 

“Ready?” Sam asked, munching on a cookie and leaning on the counter.

“Dude, we’re going to grab lunch soon,” he protested. When his brother shrugged, he grinned back, “Grab me one, too, please.”

Sam laughed, handing over the chocolate chip cookie. 

“How are you doing, kid?” Bobby asked quietly that evening. It was just the two of them sitting outside now, Sam having been sent to bed almost an hour earlier after almost falling asleep on one of the couches. The fire had burnt down but was still throwing off some heat and warding off the night chill that had settled over the area. In the distance, they could see several other campfires and lanterns from other campers burning in the darkness and once in a while catch a stray bit of music from the cabin closest to theirs. They were at the end of a small, spread out string of cabins and had a wonderful, unobstructed view of the buttes and plateaus.

Dean gave a small laugh, nodding as he said, “I’m good. How are you?”

The other man chuckled. “I’m good, too.” Taking a sip of his beer, he let the silence settle back over them, waiting to see if Dean would say anything else. He glanced over as the younger man yawned, “Ready to head to bed? It’s after 11:00 already.”

He shook his head, leaning it back against the headrest of outdoor couch he was sitting on. “No, it’s too nice out here. The stars are fantastic.”

Nodding, he said, “They are. I’ve got too many trees at my house to really get a great view but here … wide open space. You can really see the whole sky.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. Yawning again a minute later, he said before Bobby could say anything, “I’m fine, no more tired than usual.” A minute later, he added quietly, “I can just feel my brain sort of slowing down, calming down from the usual whirlwind.”

Bobby was silent for a moment before quietly asking, “What all is going through your head?”

Laughing softly, he sighed, saying, “Honestly, what isn’t going through my head.” He was quiet for a moment before saying, “Let’s see … I’m thinking about Sam’s summer reading list and what books he’s going to pick out and how we probably should get them next week so he can get started.” Smiling at the older man, he said, “He’s got to read four books this summer, his choice, but different categories, and write a book report on each one and I don’t want him to wait until the last minute. He’s also got to write a short paper on our family history for his Honors American History class, which is going to be a nightmare on so many levels that I can’t even go there yet.”

He laughed, sipping at his beer, “Yeah, that’s a tough one. Let me know if you want to use my family history and we’ll play make believe.”

Dean grinned, “That’s a good idea, thanks.” Sipping at his now cold hot chocolate, he said, “And he wants to sign up for some week long soccer camp in mid-July and I need to do the paperwork for that and I’d love for us to do some road trips.” He smiled slightly, “I don’t want him to forget how cool the road is and he wants to hunt stuff, so I need to do that research.” Glancing at Bobby, he said, “I was going to talk to you about that, after I see how tomorrow’s little hunt goes.”

Nodding, he said, “Happy to help.” He was exhausted listening to the list already. “Is that it, kid?”

He laughed and shook his head, “God no … we both need new sneakers, I need to do some stuff for my own class registration and get some health paperwork sign offs from my doctor and sign up for orientation in July. We have dentist appointments in about a month and need haircuts. Plus, I gave some girl my phone number yesterday and it would be kind of cool if she called.” He grinned, adding, “She was pretty and seemed nice, so that would be fun. She’s graduating now, too, and starting college this fall at Mount Marty to be a nurse.” 

Bobby smiled, “Good luck to you on that one.”

“But the two biggest things …”

“God, boy,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “You haven’t even gotten to the big parts yet?”

Dean snorted, “No, that’s just the mid-level list that’s always floating around with the day in day out stuff like cooking, cleaning, Sam’s social life, now my job.” Turning to the other man, he shrugged, “And of course, now throw in the confusing as hell issue of tomorrow. I’ve got Sam talking about hunting, spouting off tidbits and joking about ghosts and monsters and how to kill them, totally at ease, which I’m happy about! If he’s interested, I’m thrilled he’ll keep that connection to Dad, but I’ve also got him insisting on being ‘normal’ and how we have to be ‘normal’. I mentioned I met a hunter last weekend at the Famer’s Market, picking up gold arrowheads from Glenn, and he was almost in tears and panicking because he thought I was going to go hunting with this guy.”

Bobby frowned, asking, “Why?” Mentally making a note to ask the younger man about the other hunter later, he said, “I hate that he was so upset.” 

“I know and who knows why he was thinking that,” he said. “I assured him nothing could be further from the truth and he believed me but still … almost a full blown panic attack at the idea.” Glancing behind him to the darkened cabin, he said, “And yet, here we are … tons of salt loaded rounds, research he did, iron, and he’s happy as a clam at the idea of our hunt tomorrow.”

“I don’t think Sam even understands,” he said softly, watching the younger man. “He wants to do stuff with you, wants to do stuff that made your dad proud, and he enjoyed, but …” His voice trailed off as he shrugged.

“But he’s also scared,” Dean said firmly. “I know and we’ll get through it. Right now, I’m just letting him pick the directions and I’m just trailing behind, trying to support and guide quietly.”

Bobby smiled, “Sounds more than a little stressful, kid.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He smiled, “But you want to know what’s really stressing me out?”

“I can’t even guess.”

He grinned, shaking his head, “When I went upstairs this afternoon after I got home to change before we left, I found my magazines in my nightstand disturbed. So, I need to figure out how to deal with that issue.”

“Magazines?” Bobby asked. “What do …” He laughed sharply before saying, “I’m guessing you mean private, adult magazines?”

He laughed, feeling suddenly punchy, “Yep, my baby brother got into my porn stash for what I would assume are the normal reasons and now I get to figure out how to handle that issue.” Closing his eyes, he laughed again, “I swear, Bobby … my life sometimes. Just, what the hell … really?” Leaning his head back, he blinked back sudden tears. Whispering, he asked, “I’m just so tired, sometimes. And so scared because I’m not prepared for half of this and I know I’m screwing things up.”

“Hey, you’re not screwing anything up,” Bobby said firmly. “I wish …”

Shaking his head, he interrupted, “I have no idea what I’m doing and just totally winging it. And I’m so tired right now. I’m so sick of constantly having to make decisions and figure stuff out and balancing everything. You have no idea.”

Getting up and moving over to the sofa, Bobby pulled him closer, “I do understand, Dean and it’s OK. I promise you’re OK, Sam’s OK, we can fix anything that you think is broken.”

He gave a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “I am so far from OK, Bobby, you can’t even see OK from where I’m at.” Wiping his face quickly, he smiled and said, “But it’s fine. We’ll go out tomorrow and hunt and put down a ghost and Sam will either remembers he hates it or remembers he loves it and I’ll take it from there. Then, all I have to do is try to balance that with him saying he wants to be normal and find the sweet spot between normal, Dad’s actions, and what Sam wants and needs. And, of course, and make sure we don’t go down some dark, twisted rabbit hole of a life that Dad was quickly going down.” Smiling slightly, he shook his head, “Just …” Allowing his voice to trail off, he sighed again before laying his head back and closed his eyes.

Pulling the younger man closer to him, unsure what to say, Bobby allowed the silence to settle back over them. “Never heard you describe your life with your dad that way,” he finally said quietly.

Dean shrugged, glancing at the older man for a moment before closing his eyes again, “No but we both know it’s true. Me and you, I mean. Sam’s memories are a bit fuzzy and I’m happy to keep it that way.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

Wiping away tears again, he whispered, “I miss him so much, Bobby. Things might not have always been great or hell, even good. And, we were never the Bradys, and talk about not being able to even see normal, but …” His voice trailed off for a long moment before he said again, “I just miss him so much that it hurts sometimes. Like this deep, soul, hurt.”

“I know, kid. I remember those feelings.” He sighed, kissing the top of the other man’s head, “It’ll get better though, I promise.”

“Sorry,” he said finally. Sitting up, he smiled slightly and shook his head before saying, “I’m just tired, forget I said anything. It’s really fine. It was a long week and I was up early this morning.”

Allowing him to recover, Bobby smiled, “Yeah, now that you’re a working man. Not some high school kid, goofing off and sleeping in every Saturday.”

Dean laughed, wiping away the last of his tears. “Oh yeah, that’s me. Before this job, I was in bed until noon on Saturdays!” Standing up as Bobby laughed, he said, “I’m heading to bed, sleep well.”

“You too, Dean,” he said, smiling.

Pausing, he smiled slightly and said, “Thanks for listening.”

“Always,” he said. “Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.” Watching Dean walk back into the house, he sighed quietly and once again felt under prepared for the challenges he was facing. How to balance everything, respect John’s memory, respect both boys’ wishes for how they wanted to live, and make sure they both had the support they needed. John had known it was going to be hard and they had talked about the situation multiple times during the fall but the reality of day in, day out, made him second guess himself. Taking a sip of his beer, he smiled slightly, noticing but not surprised to see that he hadn’t even finish his first bottle. His drinking had quickly tapered off to almost nothing after a scare in mid-December. He had gotten not quite drunk and had been awoken by his private phone number ringing in the middle of the night. His first thought was that it was one of the boys in need of help and it had quickly dawned on him as he stumbled to answer the phone that he wasn’t sure he was even safe to drive, if they did need him. It had turned out to be a wrong number but the incident and cold fear had left a strong impression on him. Now, watching the fire burn down to almost nothing, he found himself lost in memories of conversations and hoped that he was also doing the right thing.

OOooOOooOOoo

“Dean.”

Opening his eyes in the darkness, he blinked and saw Sam standing over him Sunday morning. “What Sammy?”

“Bobby and I are going to go watch the sunrise, do you want to come?”

Staring at him, he closed his eyes and yawned. “Do you want me to come?” he asked, feeling like it was some sort of trick question.

Sam grinned, “Sure but not if you want to sleep. Do you want to sleep or come watch the sunrise?”

Dean chuckled slightly, “Can it be rescheduled for another couple of hours?”

Sam laughed, “No.”

“Then go with Bobby and you can tell me all about it when it’s not so ungodly early,” he said, rolling onto his side. 

He laughed again, “OK! Go back to sleep.”

“I’m trying,” he said, closing his eyes. Smiling, he added, “Have fun and be careful.” Hearing his brother leave their bedroom, he yawned again and tried to block out their father’s voice scolding him for being lazy. Last summer, there would have been no discussion or options. “We’re going to call it a graduation present to myself,” he said quietly, forcing himself not to get out of bed and catch up with them.

Glancing into the backseat, Dean smiled and asked, “Ready?” After breakfast they had driven two hours almost due north and then another 20 minutes on backroads that were little more than dirt paths through the hills and canyons. The weathered and half rotten wooden sign marking the entrance to Cold Springs was the first sign of civilization they had seen in miles. 

Sam glanced out the window and nodded. Smiling slightly, he said, “Ready.”

Parking the car, Bobby smiled, “OK, then let’s go.” 

Dean smiled and started humming slightly as he got out of the car. Pulling a bag of salt out of the trunk, he passed it off to Sam and then handed him an iron rod. “Here, take these. Put the salt in your bag and the rod through your belt with the clip.”

Eyeing one of the two shot guns for a moment, Sam nodded before taking the salt and iron. He grinned, catching on to what his brother was humming and started humming with him. 

He laughed, nodding, “Who ya gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters!” Sam said, giggling and bumping against his brother. “There's somethin' weird and it don't look good …” he sang. “Who ya gonna call? 

Dean laughed, bumping him back, “Ghostbusters!”

Next to them, Bobby rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh before saying quickly in a low voice, “I ain't afraid a no ghost.”

Sam laughed, clapping, “Yes! Way to go, Bobby!”

He sighed, “If you two are done fooling around …”

Dean laughed, “Never!” Winking at his brother, he made a serious face and nodded toward the older man, “We are now done fooling around.” Slipping his own backpack on, he grinned. “Ready whenever you are.”

Shaking his head, Bobby rolled his eyes. He nodded toward the dirt path, “We just follow the road and it will take us straight into town. When I was here a couple of years ago, the road was partially washed away and this was as far as we could drive. I’m sure it’s not any better after a few more winters.” Picking up one of the shotguns, he checked the safety and handed it to Dean before taking the second one for himself.

Sam picked up the small stuffed duffle bag out of the back, hefting it slightly before slamming the trunk closed. 

“You boys ready?” Bobby asked, glancing at them. 

Dean nodded, looking at his brother. “Bobby will go first, then you, Sam, and then I’ll bring up the rear. And no going off on your own, got it? I want to keep eyes on you the whole time.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam huffed, “Got it. And I got it this morning too, when you told me over breakfast.”

Putting the gun down on the trunk, he reached over, grabbing the younger boy and pulling him closer. Ruffling his brother’s hair, he said, “Good, Sammy boy! I didn’t want there to be any excuses if you forget and I have to beat you and lock you in a closet.” Kissing him quickly on top of the head, he said, “I’m counting on you.”

Sam laughed, jerking away, dropping the bag. “I know and I’ve got it, promise.” He grinned, bumping against his brother as he picked up the bag again. “I got your back.”

Picking up the gun, Dean laughed, “No dude, you’re in front of me which means I’ve got your back.” He grinned at Bobby, shaking his head, “I swear, Bobby … it’s like in one ear, out the other.”

Bobby laughed, “Come on you two.” Walking up the road, he asked, “Do you have an idea of where you’d like to explore?”

Glancing behind him, Sam said, “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“This is your show, Sam, what do you think?” Dean asked. “What did your research say?”

He sighed, “What I read in Bobby’s books said that most of the ghosts are miners and most of the sightings have been in three places … either in town by the old saloon or bank and up in the mines themselves.” Shifting the duffle bag slightly, he asked, “What do you think, Bobby? Any suggestions?”

“I veto the mines,” he said firmly. “They’re dangerous, lots of unstable structures up there that are just getting worse. There’s no need to deal with that mess right now.”

Dean nodded, “Right. Let’s stick to town.”

“OK,” Sam said, “then either by the saloon, the road in front of it, or by the bank.” He laughed, “Get this, I was reading this write up by one hunter who talked about a gunfight death echo near the bank. Maybe we could see that?”

“And finally settle the fight,” Dean asked, laughing. “Death echoes are good, clearly ghosts that need help,” he added, deliberately not expanding on the fact that they were usually harmless and low risk. Two positives in his book right now. “What do you think, Sam?”

“Who was the hunter?” Bobby asked, glancing behind him. 

Thinking for a minute, Sam said slowly, “I think it was Bill Harvey? Havell? Something like that.”

Bobby nodded, “Probably Billy Harvelle, good guy, bit of a loner, but solid hunter, good data, trustworthy. Your father worked with him a time or two.” Stopping as the tree line ended and the remains of the town appeared, he nodded, “And there it is. Cold Spring. What do you think?”

Coming up next to him, Sam grinned. “Cool.”

Dean laughed, bumping against him, “No, Cold … Cold Springs.”

He rolled his eyes, putting down the duffle bag and pulling out one of the EMF readers. Flipping it on, he quietly scanned the area. “Wow,” he said as the meter began to spike and buzz. “Check it out.”

Dean smiled slightly at Bobby before nodding. “So, what do we think with those readings?”

Sam huffed slightly, “That there’s ghosts in the area, Dean. I’m not an idiot.”

Biting back a laugh, Bobby glanced away, scanning the empty town for movement.

“Are ghosts the only things that cause those sort of EMF spikes?” Dean asked patiently. “What else do we need to look for before we go jumping to conclusions?” 

Sam sighed, “No, I know, sorry.” Giving his brother a quick smile, he said, “Power lines, even if there’s no real power in the buildings, if the lines are still intact.”

Half listening to the exchange of questions and answers as the younger man walked them through what Sam was seeing and thinking, Bobby stared hard at the remains of one of the upper windows in the saloon. The glass was broken out but he had also seen faint hints of movement behind two of the windows and he had the feeling that someone – something – was standing there, watching them. 

“Ready, Bobby?” Dean asked as the tutorial wrapped up.

Glancing at Sam, he nodded, saying, “I think I saw some movement in the two middle windows, upper floor, of the saloon. That fits with what I’ve seen before.”

Shifting slightly toward his brother, Sam nodded, “OK. Let’s go check it out!” He moved forward two steps before being stopped by Dean’s hand on his shoulder. Sighing, he nodded in Bobby’s direction, “After you, of course.” 

Bobby grinned, leading the small group down the main street. “What’s your EMF readings like now, Sam?” he asked, pausing again, scanning the area around them. Nodding toward a collapsed brick structure, he said, “That’s the bank. From what I remember reading, they had to almost take the whole building down to get to the safe and then had to blow the door off the safe to get to the contents when the town folded.” 

Turning slowly, taking two or three steps in various directions and toward different structures, Sam studied the blinking meter in his hand. 

Dean watched him, feeling a sense of pride at his brother’s knowledge and focus and remembered his own first few hunts with their father. While John usually wasn’t the most patient of teachers, he had been straight forward and direct with the lessons and gave his oldest son plenty of leeway and time to work out solutions to the job’s unique circumstances and problems on his own. After a few minutes, he asked quietly, “What are you thinking, Sam? Any ideas on what we should do?”

Smiling slightly, Sam nodded and pointed toward the alley between the bank and another building. “That way. The saloon is hot, too, but that alley is hotter.”

“OK,” Dean said, nodding as Bobby walked in that direction.

Stopping just inside the alley, Bobby nodded toward the three figures slowly emerging from the shadows. “Good call, Sam.”

Sam froze for a second, watching the figures circle each other, pacing. They were clearly just talking to each other at first but then the fight started with angry faces and hand gestures. The silence creating a weird almost pantomime of a fight taking place. Taking a step back, he bumped into Dean and stayed pressed up against him.

“It’s OK, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “They’re not interested in us, just each other.” He blanched as one of the figures quickly pulled out a knife and stabbed one of the other figures, drops of blood spraying in the air before disappearing. The stabbed figure dropped to the ground as the other two began circling each other.

“Just a death echo,” Bobby said firmly, his voice matter of fact. “They can’t see us or hear us.” He glanced at Sam and said, “Do you know what the difference between a death echo and a regular ghost is?”

Sam nodded, still watching the fight. Taking a deep breath, he said, “A death echo is just like an imprint of the death. They reenact it over and over again but don’t see anything beyond what’s going on with them. Ghosts interact with our world and they can cause problems.” He gasped slightly as the third figure was suddenly stabbed, crumbling to the ground. Raising himself up slightly from the ground, he pulled out a gun and shot the second man. Both of them falling to the ground just feet apart. The shot man crawled away slightly in the direction of the main street but only made it a few feet before collapsing again.

“Sort of like a play,” Dean said, shrugging as the figures faded out. “Newer death echoes sometimes still have sounds, voices, attached to them. But echoes this old usually don’t have the energy left for that.” Patting his brother’s shoulder, he said, “Do you want to try to put them to rest?”

“Maybe you can help me, too, if you’d be so kind.”

Spinning around, Dean shoved Sam behind him and stared at a new ghost now standing a few feet away in the middle of the road.

Coming up quickly, Bobby stood next to Sam and eyed the middle age man dressed in faded black slacks and a white shirt with a bow tie. 

“Happy to help,” Dean said slowly, his finger quietly sliding the safety to the off position of his gun. “What’s your name?”

The ghost smiled, tipping his cowboy hat as he bowed slightly. “Reverend Isaac Watkins.”

Bobby stared at him, nodding slowly. “I think I’ve seen you before, Reverend. On some of my earlier trips out here.”

He nodded, “I believe you have, sir.” Smiling slightly, he stared at Sam who had stepped out from behind his brother. “Boy’s first time?” he asked Bobby. “You’ve been with other dispatchers on other trips.”

“No,” Dean said firmly. “And it’s not mine, either.”

The ghost held up his hands slightly, “I meant no disrespect, sir.” He smiled at Sam before turning his attention back to Bobby, “If you are going to be dispatching those three from alley, I believe my work here is also done. I will be happy to finally achieve my well-earned and glorious rest.” Gesturing down the road, he said, “If it’s not too much trouble and if you’re going to be visiting our church anyway, I’d be much obliged.” Tipping his hat again, he faded out.

Giving a low chuckle, Dean glanced at his brother as he flipped his safety back on. “Thoughts, Sam?”

Sam slowly grinned, “Coolest vacation, ever.”

Bobby laughed, shaking his head. Thumbing the safety back to the on position of his own gun, he nodded, “Well, let’s keep having fun then.” Glancing up and down the street, he slowly led them toward the remains of the church just visible at the end of the street. 

“You’ve met the Reverend before?” Dean asked, walking up the street. Glancing from side to side, he caught bits of moment in the shadows but nothing else made itself known to them.

Bobby nodded, “Met is probably too strong of a word. I’ve seen him from time to time in the distance and he spoke to me once, a few years ago now. Just walked past, like a normal Saturday afternoon stroll through town. Tipped his hand and said ‘good morning’ and continued on his way.”

“You weren’t scared?” Sam asked. “He seemed nice enough but also a bit creepy. Like that ghost preacher in the second Poltergeist movie. He was creepy.”

Pushing open the broken church gate and stepping into the cemetery on the side, Bobby shook his head. “I wasn’t scared of him but other ghosts have certainly scared me.” Smiling, he said, “Let’s finish up and maybe I’ll tell you about one of those times in the car.” He nodded in the direction of the church, “Do you want to go speak to him?”

Sam followed the other man’s gaze and saw the Reverend standing near the edge of the church walkway.

“I’ll go with you,” Dean said firmly. “If you want to go, I mean.”

Sam stared at the ghost and nodded slowly, absently fingering the iron rod he had hanging from his belt. “OK,” he said quietly. 

Walking toward the figure, Dean said quietly, “Maybe ask who the three in the alley were so we can dispatch them first and then ask about his own grave.”

Not looking at his brother, Sam nodded and swallowed. Coming to the ghost, he smiled slightly and said, “Hello.”

Taking off his hat, the ghost smiled, “Hello.”

“Thank you for talking to us,” he said, smiling back slightly. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he said, bowing his head slightly. ““Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Matthew 7:7”

“Does it hurt to be dead?” Sam asked.

Dean glanced at him, not expecting that question. “Sam…” he started, shaking his head. 

The Reverend smiled, “No, it doesn’t hurt at all. It doesn’t feel much different than being alive. I tend my flock, try to help troubled souls move on and find peace in the Lord’s grace and with His blessing, just like I wanted to do when I came here originally in ‘84.”

Sam nodded, “Good, I’m glad. Thank you.” Smiling at the ghost, he took a deep breath and asked, “Will you show us where the three men in the alley are buried so we can dispatch them?”

He bowed his head, “It would be my pleasure. Follow me.” Walking through the weeds of the cemetery, he paused a moment later at an empty spot. “Here,” he said simply, indicating the slightly sunken in dirt. “Laid out right next to each other, just in a row.”

“And your grave?” Sam asked quietly. “So, we can dispatch you too, if you still want, when we’re done?”

Pointing to an oak along the fence line, the ghost sighed, saying, “I spent many hours teaching Sunday School under that tree and when I passed, my congregation thought it was only fitting that I continue to spend eternity in my favorite spot.” He gave a sharp laugh, shaking his head, “Little did they know how right they’d be.” Putting his hat back on his head, he nodded at Dean, “Sir.”

“Thank you,” Dean said, stepping back and pulling his brother back slightly as the ghost faded from view again. Waving at Bobby, he called, “Got them! Bring the shovels and let’s get to work.” He nudged his brother and smiled, “Good job, Sam.”

He smiled, “Thanks.”

Standing over the open grave by the oak tree, disintegrating coffin blazing brightly two hours later, Dean nodded. “I’d say sending four ghosts on their way is a good day’s work.”

Bobby nodded, glancing over to where Sam was almost finished filling in the last of the three graves. “He did well,” he said quietly.

Dean glanced over at his brother, smiling, “Yeah. He did. And he seems OK with everything.” Taking a deep breath and looking around at the small cemetery and town, he said, “This was the perfect choice, Bobby. Safe, easy… Thank you.”

“Of course!” the older man said quickly, glancing at the fire. “Give it another five minutes or so and I think we can start filling this one in.” Grabbing his pack, he rooted in it and pulled out three bottles of water, handing one to Dean. “Drink up, kid.” He put the second aside and cracked open the third and taking a big sip. “Come get some water, Sam!” he called. “I’m sure that’s good enough.”

Tossing the last bit of dirt in the general direction of the holes, Sam trudged up to them. He sighed, sitting down on the ground in the shade of the tree and wearily took the water from Bobby. “Thanks,” he said. 

Dean smiled, “Don’t get too comfortable, squirt. You need to start filling this one in soon, too.”

Sam glanced up, protesting, “What! That’s not fair! You made …” He smiled at his brother’s grin, shaking his head. “Jerk!”

He laughed, reaching down and ruffling the younger man’s hair. “Awww, I had you going there for a minute.”

“Did not!” Sam protested loudly. “I didn’t believe you!”

“Uh huh,” he said, shaking his head and grinning.

Sam laughed, drinking more water, and saying, “Whatever, Dean. Plus, I knew Bobby wouldn’t let you do that! Right, Bobby?”

The older man laughed, “Right. Filling in most of three graves is plenty in one day. You can sit there, take a break, and we’ll watch your brother fill in this one.”

“Hey!” Dean protested and then grinned, shaking his head. Glancing at the fire and seeing it was mostly out, he put down his water and picked up one of the shovels. “Here, let me show you how you do it,” he said confidently.

Bobby laughed, sitting down on the ground next to Sam. “Sure, kid, go ahead and show me how you do it.” He grinned as Sam giggled next to him. Digging into his pack, he pulled out a package of Oreos and silently held them out to the younger boy. “Shhh,” he said, nodding his head at Dean’s back. “We’ll tell him about these after he’s done.”

Sam giggled, taking three of the cookies. “If there’s any left,” he confirmed, popping one in his mouth. “We have to bring these on the next hunt, too. Dad always just made us bring beef jerky and granola bars. Oreos are much better!”

Quietly walking out of the cabin that evening, Dean sat down on the couch in front of the cold firepit next to his brother. “Do you want me to get the fire going? We’ve got plenty of wood,” he said, bumping against the younger boy. 

“No,” he said simply, not looking over. “Do I have to come in?”

“Nope, I was just coming out to sit with you. But we can be quiet and just watch the stars come out.” They had finished dinner two hours earlier and had settled in to watch a baseball game on TV. Sam had been quiet since the car ride back and he had decided to let the younger boy lead the conversation. When he had gotten up and roamed outside to the darkened firepit, Dean had left him alone for almost a half hour, quietly keeping an eye on him from inside the house. The patio was dark with the outdoor lights off and most of the lights inside the cabin also off. 

“OK,” Sam said. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” he confirmed. Putting his feet up on the stone rim of the pit, he draped an arm across the back of the couch. He wasn’t surprised when his brother moved over and settled against him. Pulling him closer, Dean kissed the top of his head but stayed quiet.

“I miss Dad,” Sam said after several long minutes. His voice was thick as he quickly wiped at his face. “A lot.”

“I know, Sammy,” he said, squeezing him tight for a moment. “I do, too. A lot,” he added quietly. 

“Do you think he would have been proud to see me today?”

Dean swallowed and paused for a moment. He had known the question or one like it would probably come sooner or later and he quietly thought over how to best answer it. “I think Dad would have been really proud to see you doing something that made you happy,” he said carefully. “That was more important to him than you hunting. If you want to hunt and have fun hunting, he would have loved to share that world with you. But, if you didn’t, then he would have loved to share whatever you wanted to do and experience that with you, too.” He knew the words were mostly a lie and that if their dad was alive, this summer, like last summer, his brother would have had no choice, had never had a choice, except to come along and participate at least some degree in whatever hunt they were involved with. Their dad had been determined to protect his younger son’s childhood and innocence as long as possible, but at 13, and now 14, those years were long past.

“You think?” he asked, still quietly crying.

“I know,” Dean confirmed. “Trust me. Dad would have been proud to see you having fun and enjoying yourself, no matter what you are doing.” Kissing his brother’s head again, he said again, “Trust me, Sammy.”

Twisting slightly, he glanced at his brother and nodded. “I do. Totally.”

“Good,” he said firmly before falling silent, refusing to feel the least bit guilty about the lies.

“Were you proud of me today?” he asked quietly a few minutes later.

Dean chuckled slightly, ruffling his brother’s hair as he said, “Very proud, Sam. You did great and it seemed like you were having fun with it. But, if you don’t want to do it again, we can have plenty of fun doing other things. We can start and stop whenever you want. I enjoy hunting but that doesn’t mean you have to or you can decide you want to go once in a while and that’s good, too.” Sighing slightly, he said, “The choice is yours and you have my full support.”

He was quiet for a long moment before saying, “I think it will be fun to do this summer.”

“OK, then we’ll keep an eye out for something or maybe hit some more ghost towns,” Dean said with a nod. “We’ve got weeks and weeks to play with.” Tickling his brother slightly, he added, “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about your summer reading assignment.”

Curling up slightly, Sam tried to squirm away as he laughed. “I know! I know! I’ll get started next week, promise.”

“Good,” Dean said, ruffling his hair again before falling quiet.

Sam sighed, leaning more heavily against his brother as he relaxed in the silence. “I was glad the ghost said it didn’t hurt to be dead. Do you think Dad is a ghost?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Ghosts happen when people have unfinished business. Dad had everything set up, knew we were safe with Bobby and each other. He wasn’t happy to be dying and leaving us, of course, but he knew we’d be OK.”

“And we’re OK,” he said softly.

Dean laughed, squeezing him. “We are more than OK, squirt. We’re good. You’ve got excellent grades, I graduated with honors, we have a nice house, and friends. We’re good and doing better every day, every week.” He sighed, adding, “We may not be great, yet. But I think we’ll be great next year. We just need to keep moving forward and doing our best.”

“Yeah,” he said, sniffling slightly before sighing again. “Today was great.”

“It was,” he confirmed. “And we’ll hike over to see dinosaur fossils tomorrow, which will be great, too. Well, assuming you don’t fall into a hole or off a butte or something.” He smiled as his brother giggled. “But yeah, we’re inching toward great.”

Sam yawned, “This is nice. So much better than a stupid ceremony.”

“Yep,” he said. Then, smiling, he added, “And I still got a perfect card and fantastic graduation present. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to mark my graduation.” 

“Except for Dad being here,” Sam said. Then with another sigh, he added, “But I know that if he were here, things would have been so different, too. Who knows how it would have turned out or where we’d even be.” A moment later, he said softly, “And … I like where we are and how things are.”

Dean was quiet for a long moment as his mind immediately rushed toward the different options and paths their lives could have taken in the last seven months. “Me too,” he said finally. “No telling what would be different, so we just play the hand we’re dealt and are grateful that it’s such a good hand.” Looking into the dark sky they fell silent again, he sighed and tried not to think too much and still his mind from the almost constant worry and pressure he felt.

“Cool, a shooting star,” Sam said several minutes later. “Haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

He laughed, “Make a wish.”

“We’re together and we’ve got Bobby. You’ve got my back and I’ve got yours,” Sam said softly. “I have everything I could wish for.”

“Me too, Sammy. Me too.”

The end for now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more.


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